


Beyond Redemption: Part I

by HPFandom_archivist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Action/Adventure, Angst, Drama, Explicit Language, Incest, M/M, Romance, Self-Harm, Sexual Content, Slash, Tragedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-01-11
Updated: 2005-11-01
Packaged: 2018-10-01 01:23:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 57
Words: 160,843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10177406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HPFandom_archivist/pseuds/HPFandom_archivist
Summary: Completed. "You're beyond now- redemption, and no one's going to catch you when you fall." Harry’s back at Hogwarts. His allegiances are wavering. It’s only a matter of time…[Slash, self-harm, eating disorders, drug use… AU5]





	1. Chapter I

**Author's Note:**

> Note from SeparatriX, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [HP Fandom](http://fanlore.org/wiki/HP_Fandom_\(archive\)), which was closed for health and financial reasons. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in August 2016. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [HP Fandom collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/hpfandom/profile).

** Beyond Redemption **   
_By Sisters of Darkness_

\- - -

For this Chapter:

**Rating(s)** : NC-17.  
 **Pairing(s)** : Harry Potter/ Sirius Black.  
 **Warning(s)** : Sexual Situations; Minor/Adult; Mentions of self-harm (cutting).

\- - -

**Chapter I**   
_By CS WhiteWolf_

“ _ **S** irius_,” the name was moaned passionately into the night. A young boy no older than fifteen lay in a tangle of twisted sheets, his body arching up into the warm mouth that engulfed his member, crying out as the man between his legs allowed the movement, encouraged him to thrust upwards, to hit the back of his willing throat with every plunge. 

His fingers were tangled in the mass of dark waves that was his godfather’s hair, a man he respected as a father, cherished as a friend and confidant, and loved as a lover. His fingers clenched as he felt his desire building up to the point of release, with a soft cry to his lover he came, an explosion of light behind his widened eyes. 

He blinked a few times, trying to focus his vision only to allow his eyes to fall closed again as he felt Sirius slipping slowly inside of him. 

“Oh, Harry,” The older man moaned his name as he pushed within the tight heat of his young lover’s body. 

“Siri,” The cry was echoed, as he bent his knees, offering himself willingly, thrusting his hips upwards to sheath Sirius more fully inside him. 

His body moved sensuously against his lover’s, their movements slow and unhurried in the stillness of the night. Small mewling cries issued into the candlelit room, moans of encouragement spurring Sirius on as he aimed thrust after thrust to brush against Harry’s prostrate. 

“Oh Sirius, oh please!” he panted, breath coming in little gasps. His hands gripped at the older man’s heaving shoulders as his neck was devoured with vigour. He moaned again, unable to disguise his pleasure as he was marked and claimed so wholly. He lifted his legs higher, wrapping them around Sirius’ back, gasping at the heightened sensations the movement brought to him. 

He clawed at his lover’s back in his anticipation, nails digging into the skin, cutting little crescent moons into the flesh until Sirius grabbed his arms, pulling them away and pinning them down. 

Harry grit his teeth at the action, hissing half in pain, half in desire as the cuts and scratches on his arms were gripped with such ferociousness so as to split some of the freshly made ones open. Small droplets of blood began to pool up, the sweat on his body seeping into the self-inflicted wounds with a sting. 

Sirius dropped his head to plant a chaste kiss upon his lips before moving on towards his left arm. Harry watched as his godfather flicked his tongue out to lap at the blood, moaning at the sight and sensations such simple signs of his lover’s affection brought to him. Small kisses and light nips at the already reddened flesh were bestowed upon his arm before Sirius moved onto the other one, aiming to show the same worship until the cuts stopped bleeding. 

Another strike at his prostrate had him arching upwards, his neglected erection weeping heavily, the building tightness in his balls warning of the imminence of a second orgasm. His head thrashed against the pillows, turning away from his lover momentarily only to catch sight of himself in Sirius’ mirrored wardrobes. 

He felt a jolt of desire shoot through him as the image of Sirius making love to him was reflected in the mirror. He saw himself lying on his bed, his limbs tangled together with another’s, bodies moving slowly, grinding into each other, chests heaving, he could see every expression flickering across his face. It was sinful. It was wicked. It was utterly erotic. It was the last thing he needed before his body froze momentarily before he spilt his seed, his muscles clenching around Sirius’ member, instigating the release of his lover as a result. 

Harry watched in the mirror as Sirius’ body jerked in response before he collapsed heavily atop him, sweaty and spent. For a moment the only sound that could be heard was the heaviness of their breathing. Harry raised his arms to wrap around Sirius’ head, hugging his lover close to him. 

A lingering kiss was planted on his shoulder before Sirius turned his head seeing the mirror and what it was Harry saw. Sirius’ grey-blue eyes were darkened from his lust and desire, his swollen lips twisted into a smirk as he placed a sideways kiss to Harry’s lips, his eyes never leaving that of his lover’s reflection. 

“I didn’t know you were so into kink, Harry.” His voice was hoarse from his earlier ministrations and heavy with pleasure at the idea.

Harry turned his head to look Sirius in an eye, smiling a tired yet sated smile as his godfather moved off of him and to his side. 

“Goodnight, Sirius.” He whispered, his eyes falling closed as fatigue finally took over him. And as he cuddled close to Sirius, slipping into the realm of dreams he thought heard the older man whisper softly into his ear, ‘ _I love you_.’ 

\- - -

Images of Sirius suddenly flashed through his mind at an alarming speed, _Sirius falling through the veil… having sex with Sirius… Sirius kissing his cuts better… hugging Sirius… Sirius’ memorial… arms holding him back from the veil… Sirius… Sirius… Sirius…_

Harry collapsed to his knees, tears prickling at his eyes as he tried to catch his breath. The images flashed through his mind again, this time without the aid of Occlumency to bring them forth. He bit his lip to keep the keening cry he felt rising up in his throat from issuing out into the room. The wounds were still too fresh; the pain all too near the surface. 

‘ _Oh Sirius!_ ’ His inner voice cried in despair before he was able to bring his emotions back under control. Pushing them back for now as he tried to gather the courage needed to look up at his unusually silent professor. 

The stillness becoming oppressive, Harry finally dared to raise himself off the floor, meeting the unfathomable depths of Snape’s dark eyes. He swallowed heavily, wetting his lips with the tip of his tongue, waiting for the other man to say something. But he didn’t. He only stared at him, stared in a manner that made Harry feel as if he were under a spotlight, a magnifying glass, that Snape was examining him like he would examine a potion’s ingredient. Dissecting him piece by piece until he had what he wanted. 

Harry felt a shiver steal up his spine, dropping his eyes to the floor, shuffling his feet nervously. 

“Well, Mr Potter?” Snape’s silky tone cut through the silence.

Harry looked up quickly, his tongue once more darting out to moisten suddenly dry lips. Snape’s eyes followed the motion apathetically. 

“Sir?” He questioned, his voice hoarse. He swallowed heavily.

“Are you going to explain to me what it was I just witnessed in your mind?” Snape’s voice was quite eerie. Harry couldn’t discern any of the anger or malice usually found when the Potions Master spoke to him. In fact, his voice was strangely… devoid of all emotion. Another shiver travelled up Harry’s spine, the hair on the back of his neck rising slightly as a rather ominous feeling settled upon him. 

“Sir?” Harry repeated stupidly. He’d rather not explain any of it, thank you very much. It would be better for both parties involved if he could just keep his mouth shut. He didn’t need Snape of all people knowing of the less-than-platonic relationship he had once shared with his godfather… his now deceased godfather. Another pang of sorrow beat at his heart and it was all Harry could do to prevent the hurt from showing.

“As pleased as I am to see you finally grasping the proper methods of addressing me, Mr Potter, I asked you a question and one of which I expect an answer.” Harry bit his lip. Snape glared at him. “Now, Potter!” 

“It, um… that is… which part, Professor?”

Snape’s glare turned into a glower. “How about we start with memory of your mangy godfather shagging you?” Harry winced; Snape’s eyes glittered maliciously. “No? What about the cuts on you arms he was apparently lavishing with affection?” Harry dropped his eyes to the floor again. Urging his body to keep from fidgeting, and resisting the urge to rub at his arms least Snape know the truth of it all.

“It seems, Mr Potter, that you are not as innocent as one would imagine.” He took a moment to survey the silent boy before him. “Did you go to him, Potter?” He questioned, “Or was the man so desperate he’d shag an underage child? His own godson no less? I never took Black as the paedophilic type, but each to their own, I suppose? Your father would be rolling in his grave no doubt.” Snape smirked at the last thought though Harry was not looking up to note it. 

“Sirius was not a paedophile.” Came the almost inaudible mumble. Somehow, despite even the slandering of his beloved Godfather’s memory, Harry could not be provoked to rash anger as he was so quick to in the past.

“No?” Snape’s voice was quietly waspish, “Then what was he doing to you, Potter?”

“That was a dream.” Came another mumble, though slightly louder this time. 

“A dream?” Snape’s voice was clearly disbelieving but surprisingly he let that matter drop, only to bring up another one. “Did you make those cuts yourself, Potter? Or did he do them for you?” 

Harry didn’t make a sound. 

“I’m talking to you, Potter!” Snapped Snape before he all but hissed, “Show me your arms.”

“What?” startled, Harry looked up; Snape crossed his arms over his chest threateningly, staring down his nose at the student before him. 

“I said, ‘ _show me your arms_ ’.” 

“Why?” Harry’s voice was slightly breathless. 

“Either you show me them, or its the Headmaster’s office with you.” Snape replied, ignoring the question. 

Harry hurriedly lifted the sleeves of his robes, letting them slip down to his elbows. Snape stalked over to him, wrapping long, thin fingers around his arms as he examined the flesh. Harry shuddered under the cold touch, his heart thudding loudly in his chest as he waited for the verdict from Snape. 

‘ _Please don’t check for charms. Please…’_ he thought desperately, his breath held as the Potions Master turned his arms first this way then that way. Suddenly wondering if Snape actually needed to say _Legilimens_ in order to read his mind, Harry stopped with that mantra and tried to clear his mind with more desperation than when Snape had first plunged into his mind looking for his memories of Sirius. 

Snape stepped away after a long moment, dropping Harry’s arms. His eyes were dark and expressionless, his voice once again held a strange normality to it as he spoke: “Very well, Mr Potter. You may leave. Do try not to be late next time you have remedial Potions.”

Harry blinked once, twice, startled, before grabbing up his bag and bolting it from the room, he didn’t dare let out his breath nor gasp for a new one until he was out of the dungeons and half-way up the staircase leading to Gryffindor Tower. 

‘ _Too close_.’ He thought frantically, ‘ _That was way too close._ ’ 

In his relief over getting away without being discovered, Harry missed the dark and calculating look one Severus Snape levelled towards the closed door of his office. 

“Don’t check for charms indeed, Mr Potter.” He spun on his heel, robes flaring dramatically as he slipped through the door leading to his office, heading for the fireplace and a small pot of floo powder situated upon the mantle. 

\- - -

**To Be Continued…?**

\- - -


	2. Chapter II

  
Author's notes: "You're beyond now- redemption, and no one's going to catch you when you fall." He’s back at Hogwarts. His allegiances are wavering. It’s only a matter of time… [Slash, self-harm, eating disorders, drug use…]  


* * *

** Beyond Redemption **   
_By Sisters of Darkness_

\- - -

For this Chapter:

**Rating(s)** : NC-17.  
 **Pairing(s)** : None.  
 **Warning(s)** : Drug Use; Self-harm (cutting); Mentions of Eating Disorders.

\- - -

**Chapter II**   
_By Aurora Enkeli Medeis_

**A** small portion of the white powder was strewn in a neat pile from the partially ripped plastic bag. With a sliced piece of card he pushed his required dosage into a thin line. He took the chopped segment of straw and placed it to his left nostril, clamping the other one closed with his thumb. 

Draco lowered his face, placing the straw tip at the end of the line of cocaine. With one swift movement he snorted the powder, head jerking back as his eyes teared up. The straw dropped to the table, silver eyes blinking back into focus.

He felt his heart rate rising and his breathing becoming steadily quicker. The feelings of hunger, which were surfacing from the last three days without substantial food, gradually ebbed. He could sense the state of egocentricity coming over him, causing his usual self-confidence and arrogance to multiply three fold, the feeling of invincibility causing him to reach for the razor blade conveniently placed beside the bag of cocaine.

He took the blade in his hand, swung his feet onto the desk and leaned back casually in his chair. Draco pressed the blade against the white skin on the inside of his wrist. He pushed a little harder, the cold blade putting pressure on the thin flesh. Then he slowly, methodically, pulled the blade across his wrist, hissing with pain as he focused on getting the blade completely around his wrist. He carefully brought the razor around over his forearm, digging it deeper as the skin grew thicker. 

Eventually both ends of the cut met, forming a crimson bracelet on the pale wrist. Draco gently tossed the blade onto the desk where it landed with a quiet clatter. He brought the wound nearer his face, inspecting his handy work. He watched the blood form in droplets before trickling slowly over his skin before lowering his face, soft pink lips opening as his tongue caught the first of the drops. 

He emitted a low moan as he ran his tongue around the cut, the silver stud dragging over the open skin. Draco clamped his lips over a particularly sensitive spot, moaning again when the lip ring pressed into the flesh.

The severe sting dulled to a barely noticeable throb as the blood flow decreased and the drugs continued their way coursing through his system. When he seemed satisfied that the bleeding had stemmed enough, Draco swung his legs back down, checking the clock as he got to his feet.

‘ _First class of the year_ ,’ he thought, ‘double potions… I wonder which ones made it in.’

Draco pulled the required materials out of his trunk, attempting to ignore the way his heart seemed to thud in a loud irregular pattern against his ribs, and swung open his room door. The heavy wood crashed behind him working as an announcement to any Slytherins left in the common room that a Malfoy was coming through and they should prostrate themselves accordingly.

\- - -

Draco walked swiftly through the corridors to the potions lab, robes flowing behind him in an almost Snape-like fashion. Several younger students squeaked as they pressed themselves against walls so as to allow the “Prince of Slytherin” a clear pass. He rounded the corridor in time to see a group of students enter the lab, mostly Ravenclaws and a few Hufflepuffs, none of whose names Draco cared enough to remember. He entered the classroom, eyes scanning quickly to judge the pupils who made up the number. Numerous Slytherins sat on their usual side and as Draco made his way to sit beside Blaise Zabini he caught sight of a head of messy black hair.

Harry looked up briefly, long enough to see the sneer thrown at him by Draco. A sneer, that is, that hid Draco’s surprise at seeing the Gryffindor there in the first place. Instead of rising to the challenge as would be normal custom, Harry simply lowered his head and continued reading, leaving a bemused Draco to wander to his stool. Blaise gave him a short nod of recognition. Draco simply nodded back, having learned along with the rest of Slytherin house that Mr. Zabini was not at all a morning person.

In the standard flair of black robes that often suggested the swilling of a potent Drama Draught, Professor Snape swept into the room, slamming the door behind him. Potter was across the aisle and a row in front of Draco- who noticed the peculiar way the Gryffindor’s back stiffened defensively as Severus had come in. After six years in Potions class with the dark-haired boy Draco wasn’t shocked, what did shock him however was that Harry’s head was still lowered. Green eyes staring passively down at blank parchment, lacking the normal challenging glare they had sent at Professor Snape since third year.

‘ _How strange_ ,’ Draco thought to himself, however the blond had learned to give the Gryffindor the least possible amount of thought available: he felt it a waste of valuable brainpower. With a casual wave of a wand the instructions for the first NEWT level potion were on the board and Professor Snape set about dividing the pupils into pairs.

Then, of course, the inevitable happened. Potter was instructed to move from his position next to Granger and swap seats with Blaise. He unceremoniously dumped his bag on the floor and muttered, “I’ll get the stuff,” under his breath as he made towards the store cupboard. Draco rolled his eyes.

“Most articulate, Potter.” If the Gryffindor heard his comment, he gave no sign of it. Draco began setting up the cauldron in preparation for the melting down of the porcupine quills Potter was busy collecting.

After a few minutes the Gryffindor returned to the table, placing all the ingredients carefully onto the work surface. Draco reached for the quills at the same moment Harry went to pour the measure of leech juice into the cauldron. Draco’s hand caught Harry’s wrist just in time, fingers clamping around the skin beneath the black material of his robes. 

The dark-haired boy hissed quietly, barely loud enough for Draco to pick up on. The Slytherin frowned as he pulled his hand away and watched as Potter hastily snatched his wrist from Draco’s hand. With a scathing comment on the tip of his tongue Draco brushed a strand of blond hair from his face, highly tuned senses smelling out the faintest hint of a coppery substance on his fingertips. 

He raised an eyebrow and opened his mouth to speak when Severus cut off any comment he planned on making.

“Let us hope that Mr. Potter’s fame, though enough to get him into this class, will be enough to help him pass.” The Slytherins in the room snickered and Draco turned to Severus with a smirk firmly planted on his face where as Harry lowered his head and focused on the chopping of the belladonna roots.

The black eyes of the Potions Master were trying to tell Draco to keep his mouth shut for once and all would eventually be explained. Knowing Severus as well as Draco did he could have sworn that in the message was the most minute hint of concern. With a furrowed brow Draco turned his gaze back to his brewing partner, who was already shredding the belladonna roots and pointedly ignoring the calculating look that Draco was giving him and his wrist.

Draco went about adding the quills to the potion, waiting until they began to soften before pouring in the leech juice. Harry threw in the pieces of root and Draco stirred it slowly counter-clockwise. Gradually the potion began to bubble and without a single word Harry dropped in three Jobberknoll Feathers. He sat back on his stool mashing ingredients in his pestle and mortar, looking anywhere that wasn’t at Severus or Draco as the latter stirred the concoction clockwise this time in order to infuse the ingredients.

“Potter, put in the bezoar.” Draco instructed; the dark haired boy was clearly not listening, “Potter?” Harry looked round bewildered, “Add the bloody bezoar unless you want the test subject to be poisoned you idiot.” 

The Gryffindor shook his head a couple of times, Draco wasn’t sure if he was answering the question or trying to engage his brain in normal function. Eventually though, he shook the fine, grey powder into the bubbling cauldron. Draco stirred it counter-clockwise until the whole potion became a foggy grey, almost transparent enough to see the bottom of the cauldron. He lowered the power of the flames, leaving the potion to simmer gently as they cleared the remnants of the ingredients from the table.

Moving the cauldron to one side Draco pulled a length of parchment from his bag and dipped his elegant eagle feather quill in the pot of ink and took down the notes from the board. Harry returned to the desk, taking out his own, thoroughly chewed quill and took his own notes. If anyone were listening hard enough they would have heard the ‘tut’ of annoyance the blond made at the sight of the dilapidated quill.

Thirty minutes later there was a rustle of parchment being tucked back into bags and the clinking of cauldrons being set at the rear of the classroom when Professor Snape announced the end of the lesson.

“Each pairs potion will be ready for testing on subjects of my choice on Wednesday afternoon.” Draco had the distinct feeling that Potter would be Severus’ new victim now that Longbottom had finally dropped the subject. 

“Mr. Malfoy, you may wait behind.” Draco nodded although he was sure that Severus was aware of the fact that the blond would have stayed whether he said to or not.

When the rest of the class had finally cleared out Draco made his way to Severus’ desk. The Potions Master has sat down on the leather covered chair and, with a black feathered quill in hand, was flipping idly through a pile of what Draco could decipher to be tests to be given to second years to see how much they had remembered over their first summer away from Hogwarts. Draco remembered that test well; he had received full marks.

Draco placed a hand on his hip with growing impatience as it seemed Severus was not going to say anything.

“Well?” The blond asked, the question sounding more snappish than he had intended.

“Well what, Mr. Malfoy?” Severus raised an eyebrow but never looked up from what he was doing.

“What do you think I mean, _Severus_? And don’t call me Mr. Malfoy in such a condescending tone, I thought that privilege was for my father alone?” Draco smirked as Severus finally looked up, black eyes meeting silver. The Potions Master smirked back at the young blond.

“Why, _Draco_? Does it have the same effect on you?” Both Slytherins’ smirks grew wider.

“That is besides the point,” Draco responded, Severus snorted and looked back to the parchment, “What I am interested in, however, is what is going on with Potter. Would you care to divulge the information with me?”

“Draco, I assumed you of all people would know what to attribute Mr. Potter’s hiss of pain to.” 

Draco raised one shaped, blond eyebrow as Severus casually wrote something on the parchment.

“Who would have thought that boy wonder would be a self-harmer?” He mused, mostly to himself.

“Perhaps those,” Severus sat his quill down and looked up at Draco “who also happen to know that he participated in shall we say ...illicit relations with his now recently deceased, escaped convict of a godfather?” It took all Draco’s ingrained powers of self-control to stop his jaw hitting the floor.

“I want you to watch him for us, he may be susceptible to our way of thinking.” Draco knew what Severus was speaking about even with his subtle use of language. The blond nodded, wondering how Severus had found out these pieces of information.

He stood in front of the desk a little longer, clearly expecting Severus to elaborate.

“Oh, of course,” Severus stood up and swept through the class to the storage cupboard. Draco whispered ‘drama queen’ in a voice he hoped was low enough for him not to hear. 

“I heard that, Mr. Malfoy.” No such luck it would seem. Draco chuckled to himself as Severus came back out holding a small vial of lime green potion. He handed it to the blond and went back to the desk and began reading over his parchment once more. Draco sighed and opened the vial.

“I guess you are not going to tell me how you found out those interesting facts?” He downed the potion, the familiar seed like taste burning the back of his throat.

“You guessed right, now I believe you have a class to get to.” Draco placed the glass vial onto the dark wood of Severus’ desk. He picked up his bag and made to leave the class when he heard Severus’ voice calling from his desk.

“You shouldn’t go more than a day without taking a potion,” Draco rolled his eyes but nodded all the same, “especially if you plan on showing up high for class.” Severus shot a pointed look across the room at him.

“I didn’t think you had noticed.” He replied. The Potions Masters voice dropped to a near seductive drawl. 

“Mr. Malfoy, I _always_ notice.”

\- - -

**To Be Continued…?**

\- - -


	3. Chapter III

  
Author's notes: "You're beyond now- redemption, and no one's going to catch you when you fall." Harry’s back at Hogwarts. His allegiances are wavering. It’s only a matter of time… [Slash, self-harm, eating disorders, drug use…]  


* * *

** Beyond Redemption **   
_By Sisters of Darkness_

\- - -

For this Chapter:

**Rating(s)** : NC-17.  
 **Pairing(s)** : Severus Snape/ Remus Lupin; Mentions of Sirius Black/ Harry Potter.  
 **Warning(s)** : Sexual Situations; Mentions of Self-Harm (cutting).

\- - -

**Chapter III**   
_By CS WhiteWolf_

“ **H** e’s been sleeping with Black.”

Remus Lupin, returned as this years Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, looked up in quizzical shock as Severus Snape stepped gracefully from the fireplace and into his rooms. 

“I beg your pardon?” Remus asked as Severus swept past him and over to the corner nook that served as a kitchen of sorts, where he set about filling a small silver kettle with water before putting it on to boil. 

Turning, he found Lupin standing before him with two mugs held in his hands- teabags already nestled inside. Severus took them from the brown-haired man, pecking him lightly on the lips before turning back to the boiling kettle. Remus opened a small fridge and withdrew from it a carton of milk, adding a small amount of the white liquid to one of the mugs once Severus was finished. 

With such necessities over, they seated themselves on the battered, but comfortable, plaid brown settee, hot beverages in their hands and a plate of chocolate digestives on the coffee table before them. Remus finally turned a piercing look on the dark-haired man beside him.

“Are you going to explain now?” he asked simply, his tone suggesting that he fully expected an answer.

Severus took a sip of his tea, sighing slightly before turning to meet the werewolf’s gaze.

“Potter,” He’s began, “He’s been sleeping with Black.”

Remus wetted his lips, taking a moment to process the words before nodding slowly and indicating for Severus to elaborate. 

Severus’ eyes narrowed, the werewolf seemed to take that statement far too calmly- considering the content, for it to be of news to him. Severus took another sip of tea before continuing.

“He had an Occlumency lesson with me last night.” 

Remus frowned, Severus shrugged. 

“The Headmaster insisted. After the events at the ministry he feels it is imperative for the boy to continue in these lessons.” Severus shrugged his shoulders again, pausing to take a bite of biscuit. 

“You’re still not teaching him, are you?” Remus’ voice was resigned. Severus made no move to answer him. “How strong is he, Severus? The Dark Lord I mean? Can he… could he hurt Harry through their link?”

Severus turned to him, “You know I cannot disclose that sort of information, Lupin. Not whilst the boy is loyal to the side of the light and you loyal to him.” Obsidian eyes watched as the werewolf ran a hand through his greying hair, pursing his lips in thought. 

Severus suddenly smirked, speaking in a conversationalist tone he added, “Though from what I witnessed this evening, he appears to have a few _dark tendencies_ ,” he left the comment hanging, watching the other man for a reaction. Remus was smirking right back, golden-brown eyes crinkling in a way that told Severus the werewolf knew a lot more than he was letting on. Severus narrowed his eyes again, observing Lupin carefully. 

“You know what I’m talking about?” He accused. 

Remus took his time sipping his tea before giving a small nod of his head in response to Snape’s question. Severus stared at him with slight incredulity in his eyes, mouth drawn into a thin line. 

“All of it?”

“No,” Remus began, “Well perhaps,” he paused again before exhaling noisily, “I knew that he and Sirius were- were lovers. But I only suspected he was cutting as well.” He met Severus’ eyes, “That is what you meant about Harry’s ‘darker tendencies’, was it not?” 

He did not wait for an answer though, “He’s never said anything- neither of them did, though I presume Sirius knew that I knew,” He shot Severus a quirky grin, “being a werewolf has its perks, you know.” 

Severus shifted a little, settling himself more comfortably into the settee, as he watched Remus curling his legs up beside himself and staring almost longingly into the fire. 

“Sirius knew that being a werewolf I had a better than average sense of smell. He’d look at me sometimes as if…” he frowned delicately, “as if he wasn’t sure whether to tell me or fuck me. He did neither though,” he snorted with contemptuous humour and said no more.

“Did you want him to?” Snape’s voice broke through the haze of thoughts in Remus’ mind, causing him to look up at the other man.

“Of course,” he answered as if it were the most obvious answer in the world. Then he smirked as if he knew that Severus hadn’t thought it would be. His tone was condescending as he next spoke, but Snape ignored it in favour of the information he was gleaning.

“We were lovers once upon a time, before Azkaban. We had our moments together after his escape in ‘93, but nothing was ever the same between us. It was sometime through Harry’s fourth year that things between us ended and started up between them.” 

Severus nodded his head, his eyes hooded in thought. He was not usually one to take the feelings of an individual into consideration, but he didn’t think asking Lupin if he had loved Black, would go down very well. Besides, the answer this time was apparent and still so obviously painfully fresh. He wondered how the werewolf could still care so much for the boy who had taken his place in Black’s bed. 

“I know what you’re thinking, Severus.” A lazy smirk suddenly adorned Lupin’s lips, “One can’t help but love that boy once he’s in your heart, not even were he to rip said heart out with his bare hands.” 

Severus raised an eyebrow at Lupin’s phraseology, his lips twitching when he heard the werewolf give a short bark of laughter. “I couldn’t blame him anyway. He was going through so much at the time, with the tournament and all, he only really had Sirius to turn to.”

“And Black thought it would be beneficial to shag the boy’s problems away?”

“Oh don’t be so uncouth, Severus. There was more to their relationship than that.”

“Hasn’t Potter heard of sharing?”

Remus pursed his lips, “I don’t know about Harry, but Sirius was always the possessive type- worse sometimes than the wolf in me when it came to his lovers. He could have multiple lovers but they could only have him. I couldn’t do that to Harry.”

Severus snorted but refrained from commenting. He didn’t need any more information on Black’s breeding habits, it was enough that he would be subjected to the visual imagery of it in Potter’s head during their Occlumency lessons, he didn’t need Lupin’s accounts of it to go along with that. 

“You could smell them, then?” Severus questioned softly, asking the question that had been playing on his mind since Lupin had first mentioned his sense of smell being involved. 

“Oh yes. Yes, I could smell them on each other.” He began somewhat eagerly, “I could almost taste the sex when they were in the same room, and the blood. It could have been from the sex, but I knew it wasn’t. Harry keeps a lot of things bottled up inside him and I suspect that his resorting to self-harm, to cutting, was the most effective way he has found to release all his pent up emotions, more so now that he’s lost his lover.”

“Does he only cut for the release?” Severus interrupted.

Lupin turned a calculating gaze on him. “That would be my presumption.” He answered. “Shall I continue?”

Severus waved a hand in Lupin’s general direction, “By all means.”

Remus drank the last few sips of his tea before speaking, his voice taking on a far-away quality even as his eyes glazed in remembrance. “I could feel the wolf within me stir, rising up to greater awareness whenever I walked into a room and they were together- fresh from sex and Harry positively reeking of sliced flesh and blood and semen.” He closed his eyes as the memories washed over him, licking his lips as he attempted to catch his suddenly erratic breathing. 

When he reopened his eyes he found Severus staring at him, his dark eyes smouldering. Remus felt a shiver steal up his spine, his mouth going unexpectedly dry. He placed his mug on the coffee table, watching as the dark-haired Slytherin did the same. The air was tense around them, charged with sudden tension. 

“Were those the same nights,” began the Potions Master, “you sought me out? When you would come visit me?” Severus’ voice was husky, rumbling up in a purr from deep within his chest. Remus swallowed heavily, another shiver stealing up his spine as the other man moved closer towards him. Long, potion-stained fingers running across a rugged cheek before threading through his hair. Remus leaned into the touch, his golden-brown brown eyes darkening with lust. 

The memories of Harry and Sirius together, fresh from sex, were in themselves enough to make his pulse quicken, but the way the Head of Slytherin House was staring at him, with those undress me eyes, stirred him to a semi-erect state that lasted all but the few second it took for their lips to connect in a searing, open-mouthed kiss. Then he was hard, hard and aching as Severus’ tongue plunged into his mouth, with no pretence at romance. The kiss was hard, and hot, and brutal, branding him in its intensity. 

“I had always wondered,” Severus panted as they drew back for breath, “Why you were always-” he nipped at Remus’ neck, drawing a growl of pleasure from the other man as he ran his tongue along the stubbed jaw to nip at already swollen lips, “Why you were always so, hot…” he sucked on Remus’ neck, “and bothered,” placing a searing trail of kisses up his throat, “Why you wanted me to pound you into the mattress… or the floor… or bend you over my desk,” he flicked his tongue into Remus’ ear, licking a line along the outer shell, “to take you, hard and fast… to claim you, and mark you,” 

Remus had been manoeuvred into a reclining position, lying down upon the couch as Severus’ long body overlapped his own, their hips beginning to move against each other almost of their own accord, seeking contact and thrusting together, Remus spread his legs wider, the friction wrenching moans of desire from both men as Severus continued his broken speech. 

“Why you wanted me to bruise you… and mark you- make you bleed… and scream,” Remus’ hands curled into claws as he grabbed onto Severus’ shoulders, his teeth clenched as the heat in his belly coiled further, “Scream my name as you came… as you come…” 

Severus thrust against him again, his mouth once more attacking Remus’ own as they ground their erections concurrently, the friction of their covered cocks and the rocking rhythm bringing them to the brink of completion. Remus pulled away from Severus’ mouth with a cry, his body arching and stilling a moment before orgasm took him over and he cried out in pleasure, in desire. He jerked his hips upwards a few times in reflex before tugging Severus’ head down for another hot and breathless kiss. He felt Severus tense into the kiss as he was brought to completion with a low and sensuous moan. 

Severus collapsed against Remus, their bodies aligned, foreheads pressed together. 

“So,” Remus began lightly as soon as he had recovered enough to speak again, fingers running through Severus’ dark hair. “There was a point to your visit, wasn’t there?”

Severus opened his eyes to glare half-heartedly at the man beneath him, noting the sparkle in the werewolf’s eyes. 

“Mangy cur,” Severus muttered none-too-subtly under his breath as he pulled himself upright, withdrawing his wand from rather rumpled robes and muttering a cleaning spell in the general direction of his crotch. He looked over at Remus, pausing a moment before repeating the same spell on him as well. 

Remus smiled softly and thanked him. Severus ignored his words however in favour of his neglected tea, which he had picked up and- murmuring a heating charm- proceeded to drink in an attempt to compose himself.

“I did have a reason for visiting.” He admitted after a while, turning his eyes to the fire in the heath, the flames dancing and entwining together, inexplicitly reminding him of the images he had seen in Potter’s mind. He suppressed a shiver at the memory of Harry and Sirius together, drawing his eyes away from the hearth to look at Remus- the man was nibbling on a biscuit, but his gaze was fixed on him. 

“I want you to speak to him. I want to know if he’s… susceptible to change.”

“In other words,” Remus began, his voice tense, “You want to know if he can be converted?” 

Severus scowled at him. Remus sighed, rubbing his face in sudden fatigue. 

“I work for the Order, Severus, but you know I support your lord,” his fingers pressed into his eyes, “I cannot serve the Dark Lord if the boy I see as my cub will be hurt as a result.” 

His hands were pulled away from his face and brought up to Severus’ lips, where little butterfly kisses were pressed to each finger in an unusual display of affection, his gaze never left that of Remus’. 

“He will be hurt far more by the Order if he remains loyal than should my Lord accept him and he be converted.”

“But it would be his choice to serve the Light.”

“It would be his choice to serve the Dark. You know that with the Order he will never have free choice, only the illusion of it. He is nothing more than a tool to the side of the Light. He will be hurt far more by Dumbledore and his band of merry men than by the Dark Lord. Speak with him,” Severus implored, now holding the other man’s hands in his own. “If he can be swayed, if he can be turned… you know he will be safer should my Lord recruit him.”

Remus swallowed heavily, taking a long moment to think before he next spoke, “Would he, would be become a part of the- the Inner Circle?” The last words were all but a whisper.

“Only if all desire it. He would have the choice, Remus.”

The werewolf frowned; Severus very rarely used a person’s first name. Only those he trusted impeccably received the… _honour_. Or those he wanted something from. Remus was in two minds as to Severus’ reasoning. 

“Why do you want him, Severus? You hate him.”

“Do not mistake me, Lupin, there is no love lost between Potter and myself, but the potential to change that is there.” he paused a moment, “He is not wholly,” he hesitated to continue, “He is not wholly unattractive or unintelligent, and he makes up for what he lacks with the amount of power he has.”

Remus narrowed his eyes slightly. “Tell me the truth, Severus. If he can be converted, would you be able to accept him as your equal? Would you be able to love him as you do the others?”

The Slytherin shifted uncomfortably, though he kept his eyes fixed on Lupin. “As I said, the potential is there.” 

Remus glared at Severus. Severus scowled right back. 

“Despite what everyone else may think, I can distinguish between Potter and his father.”

“And yet every time you call him Potter you think of James.”

“I’m not here to have myself examined, Lupin,” Severus snapped. “If I wanted to be analysed I would visit Dumbledore.”

Remus turned his head away in frustration, his brow furrowing in his irritation before evening out as he came to some inner agreement. 

“Very well, Severus,” He began, “When does the Dark Lord need to know?”

Severus smirked, “When I tell him.”

Remus just nodded. “I will speak with him. But that is all.”

Severus placed a chaste kiss on the werewolf’s lips before standing and moving over to the fireplace. 

“That’s all I ask.” He took a handful of floo powder and made to leave when Remus called to him. 

“Severus?” Obsidian eyes fixed on him. “Should he not be turned, would you… will you tell Dumbledore what you have seen?” 

“Yes.” He replied. “The Headmaster has requested that I tell him what I see when teaching the boy. I need to keep my allegiance to the light unquestionable.”

“What did you tell him last night? I assume you had to report to him straight after?”

Severus nodded. “I did. Else I would have visited with you sooner.” He pursed his lips a little. “I mentioned some memories I had withheld from some of last years lessons.”

“Such as?”

“Incidents with his muggle relatives.”

Remus looked at him sadly, knowing the other man was speaking of some rather questionable events.

Severus bowed his head slightly in acknowledgement of what had not been said before stepping into the fire. He was gone in a whoosh of green flames, leaving behind one contemplative werewolf. 

\- - -

**To Be Continued…?**

\- - -


	4. Chapter IV

  
Author's notes: "You're beyond now- redemption, and no one's going to catch you when you fall." Harry’s back at Hogwarts. His allegiances are wavering. It’s only a matter of time… [Slash, self-harm, eating disorders, drug use…]  


* * *

** Beyond Redemption **   
_By Sisters of Darkness_

\- - -

For this Chapter:

**Rating(s)** : R/NC-17.  
 **Pairing(s)** : None.  
 **Warning(s)** : Mentions of Eating Disorders.

\- - -

**Chapter IV**   
_By Aurora Enkeli Medeis_

**D** raco leaned casually on the slowly dying tree beside him. His arms were folded across his chest, a cool breeze causing his robes to flutter as Hagrid inarticulately rambled on about another creature that “ _Wasn’ dangerous, hones’!_ ” yet would inevitably _still_ end up causing some problem or injury. He wasn’t entirely sure why he had chosen to do the subject for another two years but it had been a toss between that and Ancient Runes. After careful consideration he reasoned that two years being ‘taught’ by a brainless oaf would be better than two years spent staring at symbols carved into old rocks.

Surreptitiously, Draco watched the behavioural patterns and interactions of the Gryffindor Golden-Boy with a calculating silver gaze. Over the years both Lucius and Severus had taught him ways to feel people out (both literally and metaphorically). They showed him methods of monitoring actions that displayed weaknesses that could be exploited. 

Severus instructed him on concealing his emotions and avoiding the pitfalls of lying while Lucius taught him to watch another persons eyes: it would be there that he would truly see any deception, fear, anger (and, as turned out to be the case, lust and love). With such expert tutelage Draco was slowly being moulded into quite the perfect little Slytherin (not to mention the perfect Malfoy, perfect son and perfect lover).

He ignored Pansy’s fawning all over him, selective hearing drowning out the high-pitched whine of her voice. As usual Hagrid asked for someone to give themselves freely as a sacrifice to the beast and in the usual custom the entire class took two huge steps backwards. In true Gryffindor fashion, Weasley hung his head in resolve and volunteered.

Draco was mildly interested, having expected Potter to be the one who stepped up. It was at that point he noticed how far away the Gryffindor had been standing from the other two thirds of the Golden Trio.

As Weasley stepped up to the beast all the concerned little Gryffindors clung together in the vain hope that their collective brain waves (which Draco was certain wouldn’t amount to much) would somehow bring the red head a sphere of protection.

Hagrid thanked Weasley and began ‘instructing’ him on the proper procedures of approach. As much as Draco enjoyed a good Gryffindor massacre, his silver eyes stayed subtly focused on Potter. The rest of the class were watching with bated breath making it significantly easier for Draco to monitor Potter.

The dark haired boy averted his eyes from the scene before him, clearly finding the leaf littered ground much more enthralling. There was a distinct rigid quality in his stance that made Draco wonder who or what he was avoiding.

Draco looked over to the crowd of pupils, barely catching a swish of bushy hair as Granger turned back to face the paddock wearing a forlorn expression. A few minutes passed, Potter doing nothing more than scuffing his feet in the dirt. Slowly he raised his face, green eyes checking that Granger had definitely looked away.

The blond leaned more heavily against the bark, right arm across his stomach with his left elbow propped up on his right wrist. He cradled his cheek with his hand, pushing some hair from his face. Potter brought his arms tightly around himself, palms curved around his sides. Draco wasn’t surprised by the defensive gesture but was mildly shocked, however, to see the way in which the Gryffindor’s right hand was insidiously slipping back along his left forearm.

Draco watched the other boy chewing the inside of his cheek as his fingers slowly slid up the sleeve of his robes and an all too obvious expression of relief spread across his face. He quickly steeled himself, looking around in case anyone had seen this gesture. Draco had looked away as soon as Harry had begun caressing the inside of his wrist and was now staring thoughtfully at the paddock where Weasley had unfortunately managed to survive his encounter.

From the edge of his peripheral vision Draco saw Potter drop his arms back to his sides. Hagrid signalled the end of the class and the pupils broke off into their separate cliques as they trudged back up the hill towards the castle.

Potter was waiting for Weasley and Granger, one hand toying with a strand of ebony hair as the other clutched at his bag. The other two said something briefly to him that Draco assumed to be a greeting before he moved to the right of Weasley as they walked up the stone path.

Potter’s body had stiffened again, Draco had noticed as he walked behind the trio: flanked by Crabbe and Goyle and continuing to block out the parasite more commonly known as Pansy. Weasley and Granger were chatting easily with each other and neither seemed to be giving Harry much more than the occasional worried glance.

As they neared the entrance hall Potter had backed off, bag thrown over his now slouching shoulders and his hands stuffed in the pockets of his robes. The pace at which the Slytherins were walking was considerably quicker than Harry’s, causing Goyle to knock forcefully into him as Draco sauntered past.

The Slytherins descended the staircase down towards the dungeons and Draco dismissed himself from the group, heading down a different torch-lit corridor. Within a moment he was at the dark wooden door of the Potions class, giving it two fleeting knocks before swinging it open.

“Do come in, Draco.” Severus drawled without looking round from a stack of filled glass jars. He was perfectly acclimatised to the trademark entrance of a Malfoy and no longer even so much as flinched as the door cracked off the wood of a desk.

Draco closed the door behind him, dropping his bag onto a stool as he jumped up onto one of the desks.

“I watched Potter this afternoon as you asked.” He said, crossing his legs and kicking his foot slightly.

“And?” Severus asked as he began placing the labelled jars onto a shelf. Draco surveyed his nails, picking out the odd speck of dirt.

“And I would have to say I’ve found Gryffindors to be as boring as first thought.” Severus rolled his eyes and turned impatiently to the preening blond. Before he could so much as open his mouth, Draco continued to speak, side stepping Severus’ coming admonishment.

“He’s drifting from the other two thirds of Gryffindors Golden Trio. There was something in the way he stood when with them, he looked uncomfortable but when he moved away he just looked dejected.” 

Severus nodded to himself, “It is possible that he doesn’t know whether he wants company or not.” 

Draco tutted, “Typical indecisiveness. There was something else I noticed.” Severus came across the class to his desk, opening his drawers and rummaging around inside.

“And that would be?” He asked, pulling out a small vial of green potion. Draco eyed it with the utmost disdain.

“He feels his cuts. It must be a sort of reassuring gesture… a reminder of pain or of his mortality perhaps, I’m not going to pretend I understand it.” Severus walked back over to the shelves and with a wave of his wand, summoned more jars from a cupboard in the corner of the room.

“It isn’t something you do?” He asked.

“No,” Draco replied as he jumped down from the desk “I don’t need to check they are there, I know they aren’t going any where. Besides, it’s a risky thing to do should someone notice and question it.” He went to Severus’ desk and picked up the potion vial.

“Indeed. His drifting from Granger and Weasley works to our advantage. There are many things, however, that would hamper the changing of his allegiance. One of which would be you.”

Draco looked up from sniffing the Potion, making little attempt to hide his disgust at the scent.

“Me?” 

“Yes _Draco_ , perhaps you have forgotten but you and Potter have never exactly been on the best of terms.” Draco raised an eyebrow at Severus, “Now before you say anything, no one is expecting you to become his best friend.”

“Thank the gods.” Draco replied, looking genuinely relieved.

“However,” Severus continued, “some borderline civility would not go amiss.” 

Draco rolled his eyes as he placed the opened vial to his lips. He tipped the liquid in hastily, attempting to swallow before the arid taste could reach his taste buds. The back of his mouth burned as he pulled the vial away, face screwed up and eyes tight shut.

“Have you eaten since we last spoke?” Draco took a long breath and was about to tell Severus that he had when the Potions Master cut him off.

“It is useless lying to me, Draco.” He continued writing on the labels of the various jars, missing yet another roll of Draco’s eyes.

“If you know the answer, _Severus_ , which you clearly do, then why do you bother even asking?” The blond replied, tone of voice showing an increasing level of annoyance. Severus began placing the jars into the appropriate order on the shelf, the high pitch chime of glass on glass resounding through the classroom.

“Because, when it comes to this conversation I would just for once liked to be proven wrong,” he shook his head despondently, “I have told you countless times that the nutritional potions will help prevent the adverse side effects of your lack of food but they will not sustain you fully. You have to eat, it is that simple.”

Draco let out an exasperated sigh as he put down the vial and leant back heavily against the edge of the desk. Severus turned from the shelves and made his way back across the room to the young blond. Draco kept his silver eyes focused on the floor, hair falling in a soft curtain over his face.

The Potions Master cupped Draco’s cheek with his long fingers, forcing the boys gaze to meet his.

“It is for your own good.” Draco nodded his head slowly in Severus’ grasp and sighed in defeat.

“I know.”

Severus wrapped his arms gently around the younger man, pulling him in against his chest and enveloping him in the mass of black material. His fingers stroked idly at the soft blond hair as Draco buried his face deeper into Severus’ chest, inhaling the musky scent of his robes.

“You realise of course,” Severus added, his voice rumbling in his chest, vibrating slightly against Draco’s cheek, “That I am not the only one concerned?”

Draco closed his eyes, letting himself fall limp in the embrace as he awaited the inevitable.

“I shall be watching you later, if I do not see you eat anything then I will have your father come try to talk sense into you.” Draco felt that Severus had in fact, inadvertently, given him another reason _not_ to eat but he kept himself silent.

“And I do not think that Lucius talked and bribed his way out of Azkaban just so he could come to Hogwarts to lecture you.” Severus unwrapped his arms from around Draco but not before placing a fleeting kiss on the boy’s forehead.

He turned away and went back over to the jars that still required organising. Draco took his bag from the stool and swung it over his shoulder as he headed towards the door. As his fingers clasped around the handle he looked back over his shoulder at Severus.

“I will see you later, Draco.” The blond pulled the door open as he muttered a quiet goodbye. The heavy wood swung closed behind him and he took a few steps forward before stopping to lean against the stone wall.

It had been ingrained in him, by Severus and his father, for years that a guaranteed method of getting to a person was to exploit their greatest weakness. Draco had to commend Severus on practising what he preached.

\- - -

**To Be Continued…?**

\- - -


	5. Chapter V

  
Author's notes: "You're beyond now- redemption, and no one's going to catch you when you fall." Harry’s back at Hogwarts. His allegiances are wavering. It’s only a matter of time… [Slash, self-harm, eating disorders, drug use…]  


* * *

** Beyond Redemption **   
_By Sisters of Darkness_

\- - -

For this Chapter:

**Rating(s)** : R/NC-17.  
 **Pairing(s)** : Mentions of Harry Potter/ Sirius Black.  
 **Warning(s)** : Mentions of self-harm (scratching).

\- - -

**Chapter V**   
_By CS WhiteWolf_

**I** t was turning out to be a long day. One of those days that just drag and drag; the boredom so profound that it’s about all one can do to stop from going mad. It didn’t help that his being bored usually led to him thinking. And thinking was never a good thing for him to do. 

He sighed heavily, propping his head upon his hand, his other hand absentmindedly tracing the grooves and ridges of the graffiti-covered desks in the History of Magic classroom- one of the only classrooms in Hogwarts where such blatant disrespect for school property could be found. 

From the table beside him both Ron and Hermione shot him looks of worry and sympathy. Harry swallowed heavily as he felt bile creep up his throat. He kept his eyes glued to the table and the neglected parchment before him (not even bothering to make pretence at listening to Binn’s droning.) 

He watched them through his peripheral vision, hating the way they were staring at him- their gazes so compassionate, so pitying. He didn’t want that, didn’t need that. It just grated on his nerves, made him clench his jaw and try to reign in his temper as it threatened to blow up at them. 

Harry rubbed at his eyes. He knew they were only trying to help him, trying to be there for him. Unfortunately for himself though, he really didn’t have the heart to tell them exactly where they could stick their worry… but considering the way things were going, if they kept it up he may just end up saying a few things suitable only for the darker recesses of ones mind. 

“You alright, mate?” Ron asked quietly, leaning over towards him. 

Harry stared at him for a moment, the words ‘ _what do you think?_ ’ running through his mind; he quelled the urge to snap them. 

“Ya, I’m fine, Ron.” The redhead nodded, offering him a grin he was unable to return. Ron looked wounded, but Harry was torn between feeling guilt and triumph at the expression on Weasley’s face. 

He lifted his eyes with an inner frown at his musings; he’d been doing that a lot lately, referring to Ron by his second name. Hermione too. He hated the feeling of betrayal he got whenever he did so, yet relished the feeling of disassociation that came with it. He supposed it had something to do with needing his own space, to be by himself once in a while. God forbid they ever let him out of their sights. 

Hermione caught his eye and he almost winced at the hurt yet calculating look she was giving him. As if she were trying to read his mind, to analyse him. It was the same look she gave to her homework assignments whenever they posed an aspect of problem solving she didn’t immediately know the answer too. 

His stomach coiled, burning slightly with unease. Her lips pursed fractionally before she smiled at him. It was a fake smile. One that refused to reach and disguise the shrewd look in her brown eyes. He attempted to return the gesture, if only to please her and make her turn away. But the minute twisting of his lips made him appear to grimace instead. 

Disappointment flashed through Hermione’s eyes and Harry forced himself to look away, to not scowl, to not grit his teeth. He hated the way she made him feel whenever she looked at him. It was as if she expected him to suddenly become the Harry of old, the naïve little Gryffindor from first year who rushed headfirst into dangerous situations with no thought as to how his actions might endanger himself and others. 

It didn’t help that he knew were he to suddenly become that person again that Hermione would probably still be suspicious of him. Still study him at every opportunity, pick him apart like some potion’s assignment. 

Besides, he could never be that boy again. Ever. He couldn’t bring himself to blindly lead more innocents to their deaths. To be the reason people needed saving. To go off on another one of his _saving people things_.

Oh yes, he hadn’t forgotten that one. Hadn’t forgotten how deep those words had cut him. He never did tell Hermione how much he resented her for saying them, even if in hindsight they proved to be true. At least in ignorance he hadn’t had to see it in the harsh light she had put it under. 

He pushed his fingers into the grooves of his desk, tracing letters and initials- declarations of love, of hate, of Gryffindors Rule! And Slytherins Suck! Anything to take his mind off the track it had been running. If he kept it up, he might start seeing Susan Bones’ initials (carved in a heart above Zacharias Smith’s), as referring to Sirius Black instead. 

He felt a pang in his chest, his fingers twitching in an anticipation he rarely felt anymore. He shot a subtle look in the direction of his friends, glad to see that Hermione had diverted her attention and was furiously scribbling away on her notes. Ron too was otherwise occupied with staring between Hermione and the window. 

Wetting his lips a little, Harry slipped one of his hands up the sleeve of his robe, eyes fluttering and glazing a little as he felt the familiar presence of old scars, fresh cuts and scabbing skin that littered his arm. A minute shiver raced through him as he stroked his wounds, relishing in their imperfect perfection. A sense of calm and collectiveness washing over him.

He longed to look at them, but dared do no more than touch them, feel them- the evidence of his inner pain and grief. He needed to know they were still there. The need to make sure they had not disappeared was intense. 

He hadn’t put the usual charms he used on. It was risky but refreshing. He knew it was only a matter of time before he was called up to Dumbledore’s office to answer for his cutting. There was no way Snape hadn’t known he was hiding something. He didn’t dare think he was smart enough to get away with it. Not with Snape at least. The man had a personal vendetta against him and had no doubt gone straight to the Headmaster with the information. 

He knew he could keep the pretence that him and Sirius together had been nothing more than a dream, but he couldn’t hide the cuts. Not if they decided they wanted to check. It was annoying though, he’d had Occlumency with Snape two days ago and still nothing had happened about it. It made him nervous, wondering if maybe they were waiting to catch him in the act. But he wouldn’t let them. 

He dug his fingers into his arm, nails biting into already abused flesh as he dragged them down, relishing in the bite of the sting. He flexed his fingers a little before removing his hand from his sleeve, wiping the traces of fresh blood on his leg. He wouldn’t let them take this away from him. He didn’t think he would be able to cope without his blade. They wouldn’t understand his need. They couldn’t. Only Sirius did- could… 

He heaved a sigh, not caring that the gesture would result in more querying looks from his friends. Every reminder of Sirius, even those unintentional ones- like the initials on the desk- were like the twist of a knife through his heart, and yet he relished the pain. Some perverse part of his mind thankful that this reminder of the man he loved more than life itself hurt him so much. Because, he illogically rationalised, without such painful reminders he was afraid he would forget. Forget that Sirius had been there for him when no one else could be; forget that he had been a confidant, someone who offered him consolation, and gave him comfort; forget that he was dead; and forget that it was his fault. 

His throat clenched achingly over a sob he refused to release. Now was not the time to break down. He couldn’t afford to fall apart now. After all, who was there now to put him back together again? 

The end of class bell rang loudly through the classroom and Harry, thankful to be brought out of his musings, hurriedly stuffed his unused parchment into his bag, before making his way into the throng of students flocking out the room. He wordlessly waited for his friends before they made their way to the Great Hall for the luncheon hour. 

He frowned slightly when they separated themselves to flog either side of him. He didn’t miss the look they exchanged between them as they steered him in the direction of the hall. He wished they wouldn’t. Though this was not a new order of walking, Harry felt that they were only doing it to make sure that he wasn’t left alone. 

Harry felt suddenly caged. The thought of being forced to sit between the two of them whilst they chatted happily to him- expecting him to do the same- was enough to turn his stomach. Added to that he just knew Hermione would be watching him, making sure he ate enough to satisfy her, watching his interactions with everyone else. 

He couldn’t do that again. Not every mealtime. Not this lunchtime. He didn’t feel like pretending today. Didn’t feel that he could, in fact, manage to convince everyone that he was doing well enough, was still a bit upset, but was slowly getting there. Because he wasn’t, and he hated having to make everyone believe that he was. 

He stopped walking. Almost automatically they stopped too. 

“Harry?” Began Hermione. 

Harry interrupted her before she could get any further, “You guys go on ahead, I need to grab some stuff from the tower, I’ll get something from the kitchens before class.” He turned and pushed through the crowds of students without waiting for their collective reply, praying that they didn’t decide to follow him. 

He didn’t stop his fast paced walk until he was one staircase and three corridors away from them. He slowed down to a dawdle after making sure he hadn’t in fact been followed. His shoulders slumped a little as he walked, hands in pockets and scuffing his shoes along the way. 

He was just contemplating what to do with his newfound freedom when he heard his name being called. He looked up to find Remus Lupin standing in the doorway of the Defence classroom. 

“Hey,” Remus said softly.

“Hey,” Harry responded just as quietly. This wasn’t the first time he had seen or spoken with Remus since the incident in the Department of Mysteries, but this was the first time there hadn’t been other people around. 

“Not going to lunch?” Remus inquired. 

Harry shook his head. 

“You alright?” 

Harry’s response was just to shrug, unable to meet the werewolf’s eyes. Some part out of it was out of guilt for being the cause of Remus’ last friend’s death, and another because he simply didn’t know how they were in terms of relationship anymore. The werewolf had gone from being a favourite teacher to an uncle through Sirius, but now without his Godfather around he wasn’t quite sure how to be in the older man’s presence. 

Remus moved closer to him, watching as the boy tensed a little as he reached out a hand to tilt his face upwards.

“Really?”

Harry’s eyes were a swirl of emotion and contradiction even as he managed to get out a rather hollow, “I’m fine,”

Remus just raised his eyebrow, “I’m not going to push you, Harry. I know how much you detest being asked how you’re feeling. But please, don’t lie to me? I’m here for you if you ever need me, okay? For whatever reason, even if you just want to sit with someone without having to talk.”

Harry looked slightly surprised at the offer though it was disguised well enough. Remus gave him wry but sad smile. 

“That is, if you want to? I’ll understand if you keep your distance, if I remind you of what you’ve lost.”

“I- no, no… I would like that, professor. I- I just… I’m sorry.” Harry felt his eyes stinging, yet they remained dry. 

“Whatever for?”

“For getting him killed.” 

The words were spoken with such belief that Remus found himself taking a minute simply to process a reply.

“Don’t apologise, Harry. It was not your fault he died.”

“No?”

“No.” Remus cupped his face, keeping their gazes locked. “No, it was not your fault he died.”

“If it wasn’t mine, then who’s to blame?” 

How Severus expected Harry to be converted to the side responsible for his lover’s death was anyone’s guess. Remus hadn’t fully forgiven the Dark Side for his loss either. But with war must come death and so he had come to accept it, at least a little, but for the Slytherin to expect Harry to do the same? He mentally shook his head. The task would be nigh impossible.

Remus swallowed heavily, before opening his mouth as if to reply, he was saved though from pointing blame when Harry spoke instead. 

“I’d rather not talk about it now, if it’s alright with you?” 

Remus watched him a moment, “Okay,” He said softly, “but it’s not your fault, Harry.” 

The dark-haired boy just shifted slightly. 

“I wish you could believe me, Harry-cub,”

Harry looked up at the words, offering some semblance of a smile at the pet name Remus had bestowed upon him. Remus smiled back. 

“I haven’t called you that for a while, have I?”

Harry bit his lip shyly, shaking his head. 

“Well just so long as you remember, you’re the last of my pack now, I’d do anything for you,” he ruffled Harry’s hair lightly.

“You’re talking like a wolf again, professor.” Harry offered softly, through by the look in his eyes, Remus knew that the younger man didn’t mind at all. 

Remus smiled at him, opening his arms in an embrace. Harry was slightly reluctant at first, but accepted the offer, stepping into the warm circle of the werewolf’s arms. He buried his face in robes that smelt of coffee and mint, enjoying the way Remus tightly held him. As if he were all that mattered. His head was tucked beneath Remus’ chin after the man had placed a light kiss upon his temple. 

“You’re my cub, Harry, please don’t forget that.” 

Harry shook his head. “I won’t,” he whispered softly, feeling that even though he had lost the most important thing to him, he still had someone left who could understand him and though Remus didn’t know everything about him, he knew the werewolf would accept him for everything he was. 

They stayed like that, held together in companionship for a long while until, with reluctance, Remus drew away.

“You need to get to class, pup, the bell’s about to ring.” He huffed slightly, “And you haven’t eaten lunch either.” 

Harry smiled a little. “Neither did you, professor.”

“It’s Remus, Harry, whenever we’re not in class.” Totally ignoring the comment about his not having eaten either. 

Harry nodded his head. Feeling strangely better that he had. He stepped back from Remus, making to turn and head back down the hallway when he paused and met Remus’ eyes. 

“Thank you,” he all but whispered before leaving. 

Remus watched him until he disappeared around a corner, sighing a little. Knowing that Severus’ little plan could not be considered as anything resembling a simple task. The boy had been troubled before he coupled with Sirius, the gods only knew how worse for wear he was since the man’s death, but if their brief meeting had told him anything, it was that he had only fallen deeper into his pain: Remus could smell the blood off the boy, more than he was used to. It pained him to know the young man thought he had no one to turn to. 

He made his way back into his classroom as he heard a congregation of students making their way through the hallways. He looked out the window momentarily, vowing to himself that if Harry could not be converted to the side of the Dark Side, then Severus Snape would never get a chance to reveal what he knew to Dumbledore. His eyes flashed minutely before he turned to face his assembling class, a small smile upon his face. 

\- - -

**To Be Continued…?**

\- - -


	6. Chapter VI

  
Author's notes: "You're beyond now- redemption, and no one's going to catch you when you fall." Harry’s back at Hogwarts. His allegiances are wavering. It’s only a matter of time… [Slash, self-harm, eating disorders, drug use…]  


* * *

** Beyond Redemption **   
_By Sisters of Darkness_

\- - -

For this chapter:

**Rating(s)** : NC-17.   
**Pairing(s)** : Draco Malfoy/ Lucius Malfoy.  
 **Warning(s)** : Sexual Situations; Incest; Mentions of Eating Disorders.

\---

**Chapter VI**   
_By Aurora Enkeli Medeis_

**D** raco looked down at his plate, lip curled with the utmost disdain as he twirled his fork between his slender fingers. He realised he must make quite the picture sitting at a table, glaring at a piece of chicken but the very thought of putting it in his mouth, chewing, swallowing and then walking around as it sat in his stomach made him feel violently nauseous.

He stabbed at it, dropping his fork with a clatter as the smallest trickle of fat seeped out the wound. He took the pitcher of iced water from the table and poured some into his glass. He picked it up, taking a large gulp to dislodge the lump in his throat. Not that there was actually anything in his system his body could regurgitate.

As he sat his glass back down, ice cubes clinking against the sides, Draco rationalised that his first scrap of food in almost a week should be something more bland and less disturbing than chicken. He reached for the stack of rolls, plucking one from the top.

He stared at it, feeling a little less nauseous than he had in regards to the meat. Holding it in his left hand Draco began picking bits off the corner. Crumbs fell onto his plate as he brought a chunk of the roll to his mouth. Draco’s stomach grumbled in anticipation, his entire body begging him to put the morsel of food in his mouth.

His mind, on the other hand, was screaming at him. If he didn’t eat what would his punishment be? To see his father? Draco dropped the roll unceremoniously to the plate, picking up his water once more and taking another long mouthful. He could feel a pair of eyes watching him but he didn’t need to look round to know the owner.

Draco began to count down from ten as he sipped his water, taking one of the ice cubes into his mouth. He crunched it, swallowing the particles just in time to suffer the inevitable.

“Mr Malfoy?” Draco calmly placed his glass down, fingers wet with condensation. He turned round slowly.

“Yes Professor?” He met Severus’ dark gaze, looking up almost innocently at the Potions Master.

“My classroom in one hour.” He watched Severus turn away then leave the hall, black robes billowing behind him in typical fashion. Draco rolled his eyes at his Professor’s flair for the dramatics as he checked his watch. He would need to be at Severus’ office just after seven o’clock.

Draco stood from the table, leg swinging gracefully over the bench. His stomach rumbled in protest but he had plenty of time to take care of that. As he walked between the tables, Draco cast a surreptitious glance towards the Gryffindor table.

Potter was wedged between Weasley and Finnegan with Granger sitting across from him. He was prodding idly at a piece of potato with his fork. Draco could see Weasley watching Potter out the corner of his eye. Whether Potter had noticed this or not Draco couldn’t be certain but within three seconds of Weasley looking at him, Potter had stabbed the food and brought it to his mouth.

Draco left the hall, storing the information away to give to Severus at a later date. He wondered how on earth Potter put up with all the tentative, worried looks from the two thirds of the trio. Draco would have been driven to insanity by now.

He swept through the corridors, descending staircases down into the comforting depths of the dungeons. As he turned a corner, Draco nearly collided with a first year Slytherin who at least at the intelligence to stutter an apology (most likely in fear for his limbs) as he dove out the way.

He reached the entrance to the common room, throwing out the password to prevent himself having to stop walking in order to enter. In true Malfoy fashion he swaggered through the common room, amazed that the way everyone always looked at him when he entered the room never seemed to get boring. Whether in awe, fear or hatred Draco didn’t care, just so long as they were looking.

He ascended the stairs to the boys dormitory, throwing open the door and slamming it behind him. Draco cast a locking charm on the door before heading across the room to his trunk. He unlocked it and lifted the heavy lid, rummaging around until his hand grasped a polished oak box beneath a black jumper.

Draco let the lid of the trunk fall shut with a loud thud as he took the box over to the desk on the other side of the dormitory. He sat it down, pulling out the chair and landing on it gracefully. Draco put the tip of his wand to the box, which then gave a series of clicks before popping open.

The inside of the box was coated in dark green velvet. At the bottom on the left sat two bags of white powder, one opened and one untouched. Beside which were placed two segments of straw and a rectangle of thick parchment. On the other side, a switchblade (ivory handled) and a razor blade.

Draco took out the already opened bag of white powder, tipping only a small amount onto the desk. He replaced the bag to its rightful position and picked out the parchment and one of the straw segments. With great care and concentration he pushed the powder around until he had formed a neat strip. He put the parchment back into the box and brought the straw to his nostril. Dipping his face he inhaled and followed the line with well-practised finesse.

He sat back in his chair, shaking his head a little. It was a small dosage but it was enough. By the time he had cast a cleaning charm on the desk and packed everything into his box the incessant grumbling of his stomach had ceased and his body was no longer crying out for sustenance.

As he went back to his trunk, Draco checked his watch. He tutted when he saw he still had twenty minutes until he had to make an appearance at Severus’ office. Draco stuffed the box back to bottom of his trunk, slamming it closed and sealing it with a locking charm. 

Draco could feel his heart rate increasing as he took down the locking charm and stormed out the room. He swept back into the common room, dropping heavily into his preferred chair by the large, black marble fireplace. He watched the way the flames flickered over the carved images of snakes, bringing them to life. The high pitched chatter of a group of third year girls behind him began to grate on his nerves and Draco had to grind his teeth to stop from turning round and hexing them all into small smouldering pieces.

He reached forward, taking a magazine from the dark wood table. Draco rolled his eyes at his unfortunate choice. It was last weeks Witch Weekly, obviously brought by someone from home. He sighed and gave in, it wasn’t exactly an enthralling, intellectual publication but he would do anything to pass the next fifteen minutes.

Draco sat the magazine on his lap, flipping through it from back to front. It was a strange habit and he had no idea from where it had formed. As he began to ponder over this while idly turning pages he saw one of the last things he needed to see: another ‘heart-wrenching’ story about Perfect Potter and how very awful the Dark Lord is.

He snarled at the magazine, throwing it back to the table and causing a surprisingly large noise with such a flimsy artefact. Draco glared up to the ornately carved clock that hung above the mantelpiece. He had another ten minutes left.

He sighed, turning in his chair to look back at the warm orange flames. Even the popping of the logs in the fire agitated him. Groaning in defeat, Draco got up and stormed out of the common room. As the door swung open he heard the loud crack as it clipped someone’s shoulder. The clatter of books sounded throughout the corridor as they were dropped by the stricken fourth year.

The fool had the sheer idiocy to make a comment of protest. Draco stopped dead in his tracks, turning round with his silver eyes flashing dangerously at the insolent, little boy.

“What was that?” He all but growled at the boy, who was now crouching down to retrieve his books.

“Nothing.” The boy mumbled, brown hair falling over his eyes as he tried desperately to avoid looking at the angered Malfoy. Draco snorted as he sneered down at the boy.

“That's what I thought.” He turned and continued his way through the damp, winding corridors.

Eventually he reached the door to Severus’ classroom. As he wrapped his hand around the handle he heard the voice of the Potions Master. It was muffled through the wood but there was no mistaking the deep, reverberating tones of that voice. Draco couldn’t quite make out the words but as he slowly turned the handle he heard someone reply.

The blonde’s heart skipped a beat. Now that was a voice he would always recognise, whether he could hear the actual words or not. The low, seductive drawl was coaxing him to push open the door.

Draco did so, striding into the room and slamming the door behind him. Both the men in the room turned to him, each of them with an eyebrow raised.

“Draco,” Lucius said, giving a nod of his head towards his son. Draco swallowed past a lump in his throat.

“Father,” He replied courteously. Draco kept his eyes fixed on his father but didn’t miss the roll of Severus’ eyes.

“I shall leave you two alone then, shall I?” The Potions Master asked, the question obviously rhetorical. Lucius turned back to him.

“Yes. Thank you, Severus.” Severus nodded to him as he turned in a flurry of robes and headed into his office. Lucius placed his snake headed cane onto a nearby desk, unclipping his outdoor robes and laying them neatly over a desk that he dusted off with his hand first.

“Sit, Draco.” The younger Malfoy followed his father’s instructions automatically, hopping onto the desk he was standing next to.

“I assume you know why I have been called here?” Draco nodded, avoiding Lucius’ gaze.

“Yes father.” He could feel Lucius coming nearer but kept his eyes fixed on the ground.

“Severus had voiced his concerns about your intake of food but seems to think I will be the only one you’ll listen to. This started just after I went to Azkaban is that correct?” Draco nodded again. 

“Why?” Lucius asked, looking down at his son.

“I don’t know,” Draco shrugged “I just didn’t feel like eating. You were gone, I was…” His voice faltered but he swore inwardly at himself not to lose face in front of his father, “I was concerned that you would never be freed.” Lucius took another step across the room.

“Is that the whole of it?” Draco sighed and shook his head slowly.

“I missed you.” Draco couldn’t see it but for a brief second a small smile flitted across Lucius’ face.

“But I am free now, why does it continue?” Once again Draco simply shrugged in answer to his fathers question. “You realise of course that if you do not begin eating I will be forced to impart a suitable punishment and make sure Severus’ sees it done.”

For the first time since sitting down, Draco’s head shot up to meet his father eyes.

“Such as?” He questioned.

“Such as taking away something else you put in your body to balance out the order of things.” Draco’s mind raced back to the powdered contents of his box. He hung his head in resolve.

“Very well. I will eat.” Lucius appeared satisfied and switched the topic of conversation.

“Before you came in, Severus and I were discussing the newly discovered susceptibility of Harry Potter.” Draco groaned in an unusual show of defiance.

“Gods, you were back home at the manor for three days before I left for Hogwarts. I haven’t seen you for a week since then yet all you can do is lecture me about food intake and speak about Perfect little Potter.” Draco sighed and dropped his head into his hands. He heard footsteps as Lucius came towards him.

Lucius stepped between Draco’s legs, wrapping his arms protectively around his son and pulling him against his chest.

“I did miss you, little dragon.” Lucius assured him as he ran long fingers through Draco’s jaw length blond hair.

“And I missed you father.” Draco sighed and turned his face into Lucius’ neck, bringing his own arms around Lucius’ waist. Lucius planted a light kiss on the top of Draco’s head as he continued to stroke the soft hair.

Draco pressed his lips softly to Lucius neck. The older Malfoy let out a low, contented moan.

“Yes. One week,” he said as he cupped Draco’s cheek in his hand, “is far too long.” He lowered his lips onto Draco’s.

Draco melted instantly, pressing his lips back against his father’s. Lucius opened his mouth slowly, kissing Draco passionately but refraining from sliding his tongue into his mouth. Draco moaned, sensations intensified by his still drug intoxicated body.

Lucius slid his hands down Draco’s neck, fingertips barely touching the skin. Draco could feel the heat radiating from his father’s hands as they brushed over his shoulders and down his arms. The young blond moaned again when Lucius flicked his tongue gently over his bottom lip.

Lucius’ hands came back up Draco’s arms and neck before the right hand tangled itself in Draco’s hair. He pulled his son’s head forward and their lips crashed together. They moaned together as Lucius finally slipped his tongue into Draco’s mouth.

Draco dropped his arms from Lucius’ waist, placing his hands behind him to brace himself as he pulled up his legs and wrapped them securely round his father’s waist. Lucius groaned as Draco brought them together and proceeded to place light kisses along his son’s right cheek.

He cupped Draco’s chin between his fingers, tilting his head gently to gain better access to his son’s neck. Lucius trailed more butterfly kisses down the sinew of Draco’s neck before running his tongue slowly back up. He placed another soft kiss on the pale skin and without warning latched his teeth onto Draco’s neck.

Draco’s hips jerked forward involuntarily as Lucius began sucking at the skin. Lucius smirked as he brought his mouth to Draco’s ear. 

“My, my, someone _is_ eager.” He drawled. Draco shivered as the voice travelled down his spine. Lucius slid a hand painfully slowly down Draco’s chest.

He whimpered, holding himself back from thrusting desperately into Lucius’ now waiting palm. Teasingly, Lucius lowered his hand, cupping it around Draco’s robe covered erection. Draco moaned and arched into the touch.

“Is this what you need? To feel your release?” Lucius drawled in his ear before latching onto his son’s earlobe and nibbling on it harshly.

“Oh gods yes…” Draco moaned and Lucius squeezed lightly, “yes, oh gods please.”

Lucius squeezed a little harder, slowly massaging Draco’s erection. The younger Malfoy’s breathing began increasing rapidly in pace. The pressure that Lucius was applying grew harder but kept at the same agonisingly slow pace, drawing Draco’s climax out slowly.

Draco’s hips thrust upwards in shallow, rolling gestures as he moaned and babbled incoherently. Gradually Lucius began to speed up.

“Yes… yes… oh, good gods, yes!” Draco’s moans and groans grew louder. Lucius moved his face and went back to sucking, licking and biting the bruised patch of skin he’d been working on earlier. As he did so, Draco threw his head backwards, hair falling from his face except in those places where it had stuck with perspiration.

He cried out as his orgasm hit him, flooding over him in short bursts as hot come slowly coated the insides of his black boxers. His head fell forwards onto Lucius shoulder, breathing still erratic. Lucius placed another soft kiss as he pulled slowly away from Draco.

Draco looked up as Lucius went back to where he had placed his cloak.

“You should be getting back to the common room, Draco.” The young blond looked incredulously back across the room at his father.

“But you…” He made an indefinite gesture towards Lucius’ crotch with his hand. Lucius simply smiled at him.

“One of the methods of self-control Severus and myself have still to teach you I’m afraid.” He took his wand out from his cane and cast a cleaning charm at Draco who felt the gratifying sensation of the disappearance of the stickiness.

“Besides,” he continued, “the image of you with your head thrown back will last me many nights at the manor.” Lucius smirked at his son who gave him an almost identical smirk back as he hopped down off the table.

“At least that method of control could be rather enjoyable to practice.” Draco said as he wrapped his arms one last time around Lucius’ waist.

“Either that or intensely frustrating.” He replied, stroking Draco’s hair. Draco pulled away and looked up at his father, a shaped eyebrow raised.

“That is true,” he sighed, “I will see you soon?” His eyes filled with a rather un-Malfoy like glisten of hope as he stared up at Lucius.

“I cannot guarantee it,” Draco’s face fell, “but I certainly hope so.” 

Draco gave a small smile as Lucius placed a kiss on his forehead. Draco tilted his head upwards, meeting Lucius’ lips in a soft, lingering kiss.

“Now, go.” Lucius commanded, a hint of affection in his voice.

“You’re not leaving yet?” Draco asked as he untangled himself from his father. Lucius shook his head, long blond hair falling over his shoulders as he did so.

“I felt it best to… check on Severus before I returned home.” Draco cast a glance to the inevitably locked door of Severus’ office.

“Of course. Goodnight, father.” He said as he turned and headed to the door.

“Don’t forget what I said.” Draco looked back and rolled his eyes. Lucius got a stern look in his eyes. “I mean it.”

“Yes father.” Draco sighed as he opened the door.

“Goodnight, Draco.” Lucius said softly. Draco turned round in the doorway as he was leaving and smiled again before closing the dark wooden door behind him.

Lucius stared wistfully at the door before sighing heavily. He strode between the desks towards the door to Severus’ office. In a show of uncommon courtesy, Lucius lifted his hand to knock, sighing again at the thought of what pieces he may have to pick up once inside.

\- - -

**To Be Continued…?**

\- - -


	7. Chapter VII

  
Author's notes: "You're beyond now- redemption, and no one's going to catch you when you fall." Harry’s back at Hogwarts. His allegiances are wavering. It’s only a matter of time… [Slash, self-harm, eating disorders, drug use…]  


* * *

** Beyond Redemption **   
_By Sisters of Darkness_

\- - -

For this Chapter:

**Rating(s)** : NC-17.  
 **Pairing(s)** : Lucius Malfoy/Severus Snape.  
 **Warning(s)** : Substance Abuse; Trichotillomania; Self-harm (scratching).

\- - -

**Chapter VII**   
_By CS WhiteWolf_

**S** everus rubbed at his eyes, pressing his fingers against the soft flesh of his eyelids, pushing in until the bursts of black and white spots became almost painful. His eyes itched, aching as he rubbing them red; squeezing them tightly together as he finally pulled his fingers away only to splay them across his face, holding his head in his hands. 

He sat in silence; the fire having long gone out, taking the sound of crackling flames with it. He didn’t bother himself with lighting a new one, the very thought of moving more than a few inches in order to reach his wand for the required _incendio_ seemed far too much of an effort at the moment. He simply allowed for the cold chill of the dungeons to invade his rooms, seeping through his thick robes to freeze his skin cold. He barely even shivered as the temperature decreased bit by bit. 

He looked up, through his fingers towards the door that led to his classroom. He couldn’t hear anything. Not that he was surprised. There were silencing spells built into the room that would activate as soon as the doors were closed, unless he decided otherwise. But he didn’t need to hear to know what was going on behind closed doors. 

Draco must have thought he’d pulled one over the both of them. He knew that making the ultimatum with the boy: eat or see your father, would only give Draco an added reason not to eat. Not that that had been his initial plan, but in the end, Severus knew that the boy needed to see his father just as much as he needed to eat. So he had sought to kill two birds with one stone by letting Draco see his father, for he knew Lucius would persuade him to eat whilst still getting to the crux of the matter as to why his only son was starving himself in the first place. 

Severus sighed, running his hands through his limp hair, grimacing himself at the feel of the lank and greasy strands. His fingers curled themselves into claws as he dragged them through his hair a few times, nails digging harder into the flesh of his scalp each time until he felt them piercing through, breaking the skin, tearing jagged lines. 

He grabbed two handfuls of the thin strands, feeling the blood mixing with his naturally oleaginous hair as he tugged and pulled until he could feel the hair being ripped from his head. He felt more than heard the ping as strands found themselves dislocated, only to find himself grabbing and yanking at his hair again. 

A dim pounding at the back of his head and temples started up, indicating the onslaught of a headache. He had potions for that, but they were in the cupboard and he didn’t want to move. 

He wasn’t sure why he kept doing this to himself. He had his reasons but the exact why of it all became blurred. Obsidian eyes raked over the desk before him, bottles of particularly pungent potions lay opened before him, some of them still emitting their semi-transparent fumes in clouds of grey and green and orange. 

Severus rubbed his temples, smudging blood along the way. He knew he should probably put them away. He knew Lucius would come through and see him as soon as he had sent Draco off. He wasn’t sure how long they’d been in there. He pulled one of the vials over to him, placing the open top directly beneath his nose as he breathed deeply of the fumes. His headache dimmed as his head swam dizzily, but nothing else happened. Though he had expected it, Severus found himself disappointed that the usually high feeling he got from sniffing had departed. He’d have to try something else next time if he’d already built up his tolerance level.

He pushed the vial away from him, cringing a little as he rubbed his nose- he’d need to put something on that, least he develop another rash of which he could not explain away as being from a cold. His head began to ache again. He rubbed at his eyes. Then he ran his hands through his hair, his fingers tangling in the drying clumps of blood and grease. He was falling back into the repetitive patterns he usually did after sniffing: rub eyes, run hands through hair, then came the part when he tried to gorge the very flesh of his head open because of the headaches he suffered from the solvents he used. 

A small groan left his thin lips as his headache rose up with renewed vengeance, almost as if to prove his thoughts. His nails pierced into his scalp again as the pounding in his head suddenly seemed to increase. Increased until he realised that the pounding wasn’t really in his head, and nor was it a pounding so much as a chapping, a chapping at his chamber door.

Severus looked up sharply, wincing as the sudden movement caused his vision to swim and his head to give a spike of pain. He stood as swiftly as he could, pulling the drawer of his desk open and attempting to stopper and replace the bottles of potions before Lucius- for he knew it was blond-haired man coming to see him- could enter and catch him in such a state. 

It was not as if Severus needed to hide his habits, for Lucius knew of them already, just as he knew of Draco’s, and just as Severus knew of Lucius’ own. He heard the door click shut and looked up with a start, not realising he had been so distracted by his own thoughts that he had failed to notice Lucius Malfoy’s entrance to his rooms until the man was already in them. The grey-eyed man watched him carefully for a moment, his body swathed in the shadows of the room; eyes glittering as he watched Severus watching him. 

Severus drew himself up as best he could. Folding his arms across his chest and settling his face into a familiar (protective) sneer. 

“Lucius,” He greeted, flinching inwardly at the definite hoarse quality to his voice. 

The blond aristocrat said nothing as he strode further into the room, not even bothering to raise his eyebrow in his usual haughty fashion, his cane settled just under his shoulder, eyes not leaving Severus’ own until he was standing next to the Potions Master. He stepped behind and to the side of Severus, feeling the younger man tense as he did so. 

Lucius reached out a gloved hand towards one of the remaining uncapped vials, pausing only when Severus’ hand shot out to grab at his wrist as if to prevent him. The dark haired man didn’t look at him though. Lucius twisted his wrist smoothly, dislodging Severus’ loose grip and picked up the only vial that was not currently smoking. He raised it to his own nose, seeing Severus watching from the corner of his eye as he took a delicate sniff. 

Wrinkling his nose in distaste, Lucius replaced the vial and turned his head to examine his friend. 

“Why do you do this to yourself, Severus?” He asked; his voice soft and smooth, like silk or satin over heated skin. 

Severus shivered slightly at the low, unconsciously seductive drawl. But whether he shivered in desire for Lucius or disgust at himself he could not ascertain. 

“You know why, Lucius.” Still the hoarse husk remained to his voice. He made to step away from the elder Malfoy only to find the man’s cane barring his way. He tensed again as Lucius moved up behind him, the hand not holding his cane sliding up to wrap across his chest, drawing him back to press against Lucius’ lean form. 

He shivered again, feeling his body relaxing into the hold despite himself. 

“Lucius,” He began, but a light nip to his earlobe stopped him in his speech as Lucius brought the head of his cane up, allowing for the serpentine head to rub across Severus’ flushed cheeks, the sharp protruding silver fangs finding purchase just above his cheekbone. He gave a shuddering breath. 

Lucius rubbed his hand over Severus chest, nuzzling his nose into Severus’ neck, into Severus hair. His greasy, bloodied hair. He tried to draw away again, ashamed of his appearance but Lucius held fast. He did not give up, struggling in the hold the older man had him in. 

“Hush, Severus, hush, calm yourself.” That voice again, soft and smooth… 

“Like silk or satin over heated skin?” 

Severus moaned not realising he had spoken aloud until Lucius finished off the sentence. Lucius kissed at his neck again; suckling a little as his hand unfastened a few buttons of his robes before slipping within to tease at his nipple. A sudden rush of desire hazed his mind, making him feel weak and dizzy in a way his potions could now only seldom do. 

His head thrummed heavily with the mix of headache and desire, his eyes itched again and he could feel the trickle of blood running down the back of his head. He could only gasp as Lucius pinched the interested bud of his nipple, slumping against the older man with a sob: a plea to stop, a plea to continue. 

Lucius nuzzled his face upwards until he could reach his mouth, pressing hard lips together, feeling Severus’ soften automatically, his mouth falling open at the slightest flicker of tongue. Lucius slid his tongue in and Severus groaned, feeling his nether regions give a stir of interest, as he tasted the older man, the hint of a younger man-child lingering in the aristocrat’s mouth. Their tongues slid against each other, slowly then frantically, wet and moist, lapping at the other, brushing across teeth and lips until they broke for air with a soft sucking sound. 

Severus knew he was heavily flushed, his normally sallow skin unable to be anything but with the combined efforts of his sniffing and this desire. His heart beat frantically in his chest, lungs straining for air he suddenly felt very short of. 

This time when he pulled away, Lucius let him; he stumbled a bit from the loss of contact, bumping heavily into the side of his desk, his hands scrambling against the wood for leverage. He held himself upright on shaking arms, his eyes blurring as the side affects of his stiffing set in. He felt very drowsy, and the headache wasn’t helping. He needed another potion- something to sniff or a headache cure, anything to make the throbbing go away. 

He raised a hand to rub at his eyes, pressing in until he saw the burst of black and white dots, his hand curling instinctively as he pulled away and made to rake his nails across his scalp. His hand was caught. Severus opened his eyes in surprise, having forgotten that Lucius was there with him. He felt himself flush, though it had nothing to do with sniffing or desire. 

Lucius took his hand in his own, entwining their fingers as he tugged Severus towards him, slipping an arm about the slender man’s waist to help support him even as he leaned in for a kiss, just lips upon lips. 

“Why do you do this to yourself, Severus?” Lucius asked for the second time since entering his quarters, his words but a breath across Severus’ thin lips. He moved to kiss the Potions Master again only to have Severus turn his face from him. Lucius pulled back a little, his eyes sharp as he looked at the man in his arms. 

Severus forced his eyes to meet with those of Lucius Malfoy, “Don’t,” was all he said, his voice no more than a whisper. Lucius’ eyes softened a little as he nodded. He lifted a hand to Severus’ hair, ignoring the flinch as he ran his hands lightly over the top of the younger man’s head. He pulled his hand away, examining the dark liquid staining his leather gloves; eyes narrowing only fractionally before he began tugging Severus towards another door, knowing it would lead to the dark-haired man’s bedroom. 

Severus couldn’t seem to muster up his usual foreboding demeanour as he allowed himself to be led into the room and left standing like some lost soul in the middle of it whilst Lucius lit a fire to warm the place up. He couldn’t even gather together a protest as he was then stripped of his clothing and redressed in his nightshirt in what seemed like a matter of seconds. Lucius summoned a washcloth, seating them both on the edge of the bed as he began to wipe the dry and drying clumps of blood from Severus’ hands and head. 

“You never did tell me why you wanted him,” Began Lucius, spelling the cloth clean and damp for a third time, continuing to clean at Severus’ hair and scalp. 

“Hmm…?” Severus managed, he was feeling warm and sleepy again, the headache potion Lucius summoned for him had worked almost immediately. He wondered how the blond had known he needed the potion. 

The train of thought was soon dismissed. Lucius and himself had been together for years now, they could read each other as openly and plainly as books, whether or not they liked it that way. They just both seemed to know what the other needed at certain times, and Severus put this down as a ‘certain time’, for this wasn’t the first time Lucius had found him in such a state.

“Harry Potter. You never did answer my question before Draco arrived. Why do you want that boy in our fold?” 

Severus shrugged a little; allowing Lucius to help him into his bed once the older man had finished applying a salve to his head to heal the cuts he had given himself. 

Lucius crouched down a little to look Severus in the eye as the man settled upon his pillow. Lucius tucked a few strands of limp hair behind Severus’ ear before tugging the covers up to snuggle just below his chin. He stroked a finger across Severus’ cheekbone, smiling as the younger man arched into the touch like an affection-starved kitten. A sudden thought struck the blond.

“He reminds you of yourself, doesn’t he?” Lucius whispered in slight wonder. 

“Hmm…?” was his only answer he received as Severus fell into sleep, feeling secure enough in his presence to do so. Lucius stroked his face once more, leaning in to press a soft kiss to Severus’ forehead before straightening. 

He reached down to straighten the trousers he wore beneath his own robes, wincing a little at the tightness of them. He just hoped Narcissa was still awake. He walked around to the other side of Severus’ bed to get the pot of floo powder the man usually kept there for emergencies- he didn’t see a point in traversing back through to the other room just to floo home. 

Lucius opened the drawer of the bedside table, reaching in for the small pot of powder when he saw something brown and fuzzy lying next to it. Lucius removed his hand a little, not putting it past Severus to have warded his bedside table against intruders as well. 

The thought made Lucius smirk as he withdrew his wand and cast a few charms just to make sure. Revealing nothing, Lucius replaced his wand and confidently reached back in, his fingers closing around the slightly rounded shape before pulling it out in one swift motion. 

Lucius’ eyes widened, needing to do a double take before a low chuckle emitted from his throat as he saw he was holding, by the leg, a fuzzy and very worn looking teddy bear. A teddy bear found in Severus’ bedside table. Oh he was never going to live this one down. Lucius found himself grinning like a kid in a candy store as he slipped back round the bed, lifting the covers around Severus ever so slightly in order to slip the bear in beside him. He didn’t know whether to laugh or not when the usually sour and dour Potions Master automatically cuddled the bear to himself. 

Oh this was too good. Shaking his head, he tucked Severus in again, his eyes flashing a little with sadness before he turned away, dimming the lights as he took some floo powder, stepped into the hearth and lightly called out his destination. 

“Malfoy Manor.” And then he was gone in a whoosh of green flames. 

\- - -

**To Be Continued…?**

\- - -


	8. Chapter VIII

  
Author's notes: "You're beyond now- redemption, and no one's going to catch you when you fall." Harry’s back at Hogwarts. His allegiances are wavering. It’s only a matter of time… [Slash, self-harm, eating disorders, drug use…]  


* * *

** Beyond Redemption **   
_By Sisters of Darkness_

\- - -

For this chapter:

**Rating(s)** : NC-17.  
 **Pairing(s)** : Implied Draco Malfoy/ Severus Snape.  
 **Warning(s)** : Self-Harm (cutting); Alcohol Abuse; Drug Use; Adult Language.

\- - - 

**Chapter VIII**   
_By Aurora Enkeli Medeis_

**H** e was sure he had been here before, staring down a seemingly unbeatable nemesis as an unpleasant sensation sat in the back of his throat. Slowly Draco reached out in front of him, tentatively feeling the dry, crispiness beneath his fingers.

“Gods Draco,” he was shaken from his focus by Blaise Zabini sitting across from him, “It’s toast not a Basilisk.”

“I’m aware of that, Zabini.” He snapped back, continuing to glare at the slice of dry toast in his hand.

Draco brought it slowly to his mouth, it’s warm scent reaching his nose and turning his stomach. With what determination he had, Draco forced his mouth open to take a bite. He then proceeded to sit the toast back onto the plate.

He groaned at himself and scratched absentmindedly at his left upper arm, covering a wince as the black material of his robes pulled open a fresh cut. He knew he’d have to eat eventually; his father had enough to deal with without having to worry about his son’s eating habits.

Draco reached for an alternative, his fingers clasping round a green apple. He placed it in front of him, cutting it into segments with his knife. He brought one of the segments to his lips and began nibbling slowly on the end of it. The strong, fruity taste flooded over his taste buds, stomach reacting to the promise of food.

He chewed slowly, not swallowing until he was sure it was soft enough. It was forced but he managed and then took another bite. 

Ten minutes passed and after making his way through three quarters of the apple Draco gave up. He reached for his glass of water, taking huge gulps and downing the glass.

He stood up from the bench, gracefully swinging his legs over and stalking out the hall. As Draco reached the doorway he heard the familiar jabbering sound of Weasley’s voice. He was talking animatedly about some inane subject or other with Granger; Potter was standing on her left, at the side where Draco was about to pass them.

The Slytherin slowed his pace enough to give him time to sneer at them. He looked to Weasley first.

“Weasel,” He sneered looking at him before turning to Granger, silver eyes narrowing further in a degrading stare, “Mudblood,”

Weasley’s face contorted with fury, face going as red as his hair. Draco looked at Potter last, sneer falling from his face and settling in a pressed line.

“Potter.” He said, nodding to the Gryffindor as he swept past them. Draco didn’t need to turn round to know the matching incredulous expressions that all three of the Golden Trio would be wearing. He smirked as he descended the staircase, he did enjoy provoking extreme reactions from people.

He swaggered through the dingy dungeon corridors, ignoring large numbers of obsolete younger Slytherins. He reached the familiar destination of the dark wooden door that led into the Potions class. Draco gave the door two loud knocks before opening it and sweeping in.

Severus was at his desk, head bent over a small stack of parchments and a frown of concentration on his face.

“Draco,” Was all he uttered as a greeting.

“Severus,” Draco replied, hopping up onto the desk in front of Severus. The Potions Master continued to mark things on the parchment, the scratching of his quill being drowned out by the sound of Draco’s fingers drumming impatiently on the desk.

“Would it be safe to assume you are here with a purpose, Mr Malfoy?” He drawled.

“How many times have I had to tell you not to call me that?” Draco groaned. “Honestly, Severus, and I thought you were perceptive.”

Severus looked up from the parchment, a look on his face that suggested he was looking at a particularly annoying fly.

“Draco, I am not in the mood for this today.” He dropped his face back towards the desk, one hand massaging his forehead. Draco frowned and sighed.

“Fine I will make it brief.” Severus snorted at the impossibility but Draco chose to ignore him. “I ate this morning, not a lot but significantly more than usual.”

Severus nodded, rummaging around in an open drawer.

“I’m guessing I need to keep taking that gods awful potion.” Severus nodded again, sitting a vial heavily on the desk. Draco slid off the desk where he was sitting, opening the vial and swiftly drinking it.

He screwed his face up as he moved back up onto the desk.

“Anything else?” Severus asked distractedly.

“Yes actually. I was civil to Potter like you asked.” Severus looked up from where he had been writing, one eyebrow raised at the young blond.

“Really? You didn’t strain yourself did you?” He asked sarcastically. Draco sighed melodramatically.

“A little but I’ll survive.” He said with a smirk, Severus simply snorted again.

“At least if you are remotely civil then his chances of defection are increased.” 

Draco frowned and bit the inside of his cheek thoughtfully. “But after everything that the Dark Lord has caused him to go through: the loss of his parents, being thrown into a life or death situation annually and then the death of that ‘mutt’ of a godfather why on earth would Potter want to serve him?”

Severus took a long breath, he had expected Draco to bring this up eventually and he was not at all looking forward to Draco’s reaction to his next statement.

“Potter won’t be serving the Dark Lord, at least not in the form of a Death Eater.” Severus rubbed his temples lightly, bracing himself for the inevitable.

“What?” Draco asked, standing up from the desk. “You can’t seriously be suggesting what it seems like you’re suggesting?” Severus sighed, running his hands roughly through his hair before looking up at Draco.

“Yes Draco, I am serious.” The younger man came up to the desk, bracing both hands on the wood and staring down at Severus.

“So you are telling me that Potter, fantastic fucking Potter, is to be welcomed with open arms and initiated into the Inner Circle?”

Never one to stand for intimidation, Severus rose from his seat and came around the desk to stand in front of Draco.

“That is what I’m telling you. That is assuming, of course, that his allegiance can be won.” He gave Draco a pointed look and the blond snapped.

“If you think for one second that I will welcome him then you are wrong. He can’t be initiated if we don’t all want it.”

“You will find yourself out numbered. It has already been agreed upon. This isn’t just about Potter though is it Draco? You can’t stand the fact that it will take attention from you as you will no longer be the most recent initiate.” 

Draco’s eyes narrowed until they were merely silver slits. His voice dropped to a low tone.

“No, this is simply about how much I hate Potter.” 

Severus pulled himself to full height and folded his arms across his chest. He raised one dark eyebrow as he stared down at Draco.

“I won’t agree with this.” Draco reiterated as he sidestepped Severus and stormed over to the door. He wrenched it open, taking solace in the loud crack of it hitting off the wall as it swung open.

He walked quickly down the corridor, robes flying behind him. Draco saw Potter coming the opposite way down the corridor and sneered, clenching his fists together by his sides. As they passed Draco banged his left shoulder hard against Harry’s, upsetting the dark haired boys footing.

Potter had to brace a hand on the wall to stop from falling.

“Watch it, Malfoy! What happened to that civil twin of yours I met earlier?” He shouted up the corridor at Draco’s retreating form.

Draco stopped dead in his tracks, fury burning up in his stomach as he turned and advanced on Potter.

He stopped when he and Potter were practically nose-to-nose, his lip curving into the most condescending of sneers.

“Fuck you, Potter.” He spat.

Potter’s eyes widened at the unwarranted hostility but before he could reply Draco turned on his heel and stormed off towards the common room. 

As he made his way through the corridors and down another flight of stairs Draco could feel his anger shifting. Sure, Potter could end up initiated but it was the men that he trusted and loved that wanted it.

Draco spat out the Slytherin password, sweeping through the common room in a fashion that startled even the most accustomed of Slytherins. He stamped his way into his dormitory, throwing the door open and marching across to his trunk.

He cast the necessary charms to unlock it, his anger causing the spells to be too powerful and knock the lid off completely. He swore, more at himself than the trunk, as he rummaged around for his polished oak box. He found it and pulled it out as he groped around with his other hand for the ridge that indicated a concealed compartment.

He found it and pressed it in, a hand sized gap appearing in the black velvet floor of the trunk. He plunged his hand inside, pulling out an unopened bottle of Firewhisky.

Draco stuffed it inside his robes, slamming the broken lid back onto the trunk. A few charms later it was as good as new and securely locked. He tucked his box under one arm and used the other to conceal the lump where the bottle was hidden in his robes.

He stormed back out the common room, nearly knocking a group of third years down as he ascended the stairs. He walked past the Great Hall where some pupils were hanging around and waiting for lunch.

Draco made his way up several flights of stairs, finally reaching his destination.

The corridor floor was coated with dust, some faint footprints leading a path towards a door. The prints were Draco’s. He’d, on occasion, come to this secluded part of the castle to escape everyone and everything, including himself sometimes.

Stringy cobwebs hung from the torch brackets, the occasional spider crawling away from the disruption that was Draco. He reached the door where the faded footprints ended.

He turned the rusted handle, pushing the door open with a loud creak. Sunlight barely penetrated the grimy layer on the old window. Draco sat the box down on a rickety desk, followed by the Firewhisky bottle. The old wood creaked under the little weight.

Draco pulled a chair from the other side of the room and sat down at the desk, the legs of the chair groaning in protest. He still had no idea what the room had once been used for. He had asked Severus but even he couldn’t answer him.

Severus. The thought of the Potions Master made Draco’s insides slowly boil. How could he be so eager for Potter to join their cause?

The Dark Lord had spent sixteen years trying to rid himself of the pest and now he wanted to embrace him? Draco growled inwardly. He couldn’t fathom the reasoning. A more restrained person would have stopped to ask these questions but on the subject of Potter, Draco had never been rational.

Then there was his father. Draco gave a sardonic half laugh as he unscrewed the cap of the bottle. His own fucking father wanted Potter.

Draco took a long swig of the whisky, his eyes closing tightly as it burned his mouth and throat. He slammed it back to the desk, the worn wood cracking a little as he did so.

He cast the appropriate charms to open the box, reaching in and taking out a half empty bag of cocaine. He charmed the dust from the desk and sat it down.

Draco tipped almost all the contents onto the desk, fixing it into six separate lines with a piece of parchment. He took a straw segment and placed it in his left nostril, clamping the other shut with his right thumb.

He placed the tip at the first line. He would always be second best to Potter, wouldn’t he?

Draco snorted up the cocaine, following the line all the way up. Potter would always one-up him in fights.

He went down the next line, taking it all up the straw. He would always beat him in Quidditch.

Draco sat straight up in the chair and grabbed the bottle of alcohol and took a long drink. And now he would invade Draco’s life and take away from him the only three people who ever really gave a shit about him.

Well that was just fine. Draco got up from the chair, his head spinning, bottle clutched haphazardly in long fingers. The Golden Boy could come in and screw everything up. Let the others have their fucking fun with Potter since he wasn’t quite enough for them.

He took his switchblade from the box, the ivory handle smooth in his hands. Draco made his way to the clouded up window, staggering slightly.

As he sat down on the windowsill he took another mouthful of whisky, the burning growing less and less each time. He put the bottle down on the dusty stone of the sill, flicking open his switchblade. Even in the dull light of the room the blade shone.

Draco hadn’t used it often and every time he did he made sure it was properly cleaned. It was a stark contrast to the dull, blood stained metal of his razor blade. He rolled up his left sleeve to reveal an arm covered in cuts. Some old and turning from pink to silver. Others were red with dried blood with a decidedly pinched look about them. 

He placed the blade flat against a patch of scarred skin, the cool of the metal sending his over-reactive emotions into a growing over load. Draco tilted the blade slightly so that the sharp edge was pushing into his flesh.

He pressed harder and harder, the drugs and alcohol in his system numbing the pain. Again Draco pressed the blade into his skin and began to slowly drag it across the flesh. The pain was nothing more than a dull sting that didn’t even cause him to hiss.

He reasoned that he couldn’t be going deep enough. So he pressed harder. Then he felt it, a warmth seeping over the blade and up the handle. Draco pulled the blade off and looked down at his forearm.

‘ _Too much_.’ Something in his head was telling him. ‘ _There’s too much blood_!’

‘Nonsense,’ Draco told the voice and proceeded to ignore it. He held his arm to a shaft of light that was creeping through the dust and grime. It was deep. The skin on either side had pulled a significant distance apart and the blood was coming out faster than it ought to have.

He sucked in a breath, leaning back against the window. The old, rotted wood of the frame creaked, the thin glass sending out a sound of protest as it shifted in the frame. Draco brought his arm to his face, tongue coming out and lapping at the pouring blood. But there was too much.

The blood surrounding the cut began to smear around his lips as his tongue stud scraped over the skin. He pulled it away from his mouth, right hand dropping the dagger and fastening around the cut in an attempt to stem the bleeding.

He stood up, legs weak, and staggered his way back over to the desk to retrieve his wand. He picked it up, hand shaking as he pointed it at the open wound. Draco cast the only healing spell he knew, hoping it would be enough.

The cut began to seal itself over but only partially. Draco breathed a sigh of relief and dropped himself heavily onto the chair, one of the legs snapping a bit causing the chair to dip at the back a little.

He took up his abandoned straw and helped himself to another line of cocaine before getting back to his feet. He ran his hand up his face as he went back to the windowsill. As he sat down he pinched the bridge of his nose, eyes screwing up tightly as the extra dosage polluted his blood stream.

Draco picked up the bottle of whisky once more, bringing it to his lips. He stopped when he heard footsteps coming towards the room. His eyes narrowed, mouth forming a sneer after he had taken a large mouthful. He checked his watch, surprised to find that it had been about two hours since he’d left Severus’ office. His eyes narrowed, and so there was only one person in the entire world that could be slowly opening the door.

The wood of the door creaked as Severus closed it behind him. The first thing he caught sight of was the desk upon which sat the opened box. He saw the white powder strewn everywhere, Draco’s wand beside it with blood smeared along its length.

Severus’ stomach plummeted to somewhere near his ankles. He looked up to see Draco sitting on the sill, Firewhisky bottle idly swinging in his hand. There was a smear of blood on his right cheek and Severus could see the rapid rise and fall of his chest as he tried to breath and the thin sheen of cold sweat on his forehead.

“Draco?” Severus asked, his voice sounding too loud in the silence of the room.

Draco leant back onto the window. The frame cracked again, pieces of wood splintering off as it began to pull from the stone of the walls.

“Draco, come away from the window.” He ordered. Draco raised an eyebrow at him and smirked.

“Why? Scared Severus?” He mocked, speech sounding thick. He pressed back harder against the window, Severus’ obsidian eyes snapped to the corner where the glass had cracked.

“This is not the way to react to our earlier discussion.” He took a step forward.

“Of course it is. You expect me to act like a petulant child.” Draco put all his weight into the window, larger chunks of wood falling from the frame as the crack in the glass grew. 

“I’m not like perfect fucking Potter, I don’t know how to do things properly. And even if I did he’d probably still be fucking better than me so what the fuck does it matter?” He shouted across the room to the Potions Master.

Severus took another step forward. The glass gave another crack. He stepped again, getting ready to grab Draco when he got near enough. He was saved the trouble.

Draco got up from the windowsill, the wood breaking a bit more as he did so. Severus sighed inwardly. Draco walked quickly to Severus, staring straight at him in some attempt at intimidation. It was useless.

“Why Potter?” Draco asked. “Why fucking Potter?” Severus stayed silent; he knew there was no need to answer as he already had multiple experiences with drunken, ranting Malfoy’s.

“Am I not fucking good enough for you all? Is that it?” Severus shook his head.

“Well do I not live up to all your great fucking expectations?” Severus continued to stay still. Draco balled his fist and struck Severus above his heart.

“Why him, Severus?” Draco hit him again, weaker this time. His voice beginning to show signs of desperation.

“Why?” Another punch but this time his hand stayed on Severus chest. He rested his forehead on the black material. Draco’s fingers splayed out leaving his palm flat above Severus heart.

The Potions Master brought up a hand and cupped it around the back of Draco’s head, fingers twining through the soft blond hair.

“Severus…” Draco muttered, his voice giving way to a quiet, unrestrained sob. Severus hushed him and wrapped his other arm around Draco’s shoulders, bringing the younger man against him.

Hot tears slid down Draco’s cheeks, an after effect of his outburst. Severus placed a series of soft kisses on the top of Draco’s head, murmuring nonsense words of comfort against his hair.

Severus knew there was no point in trying to talk properly to Draco now he was in this state. No, that would be a different day. For now all the blond needed was someone who loved him.

\- - -

**To Be Continued…?**

\- - -


	9. Chapter IX

  
Author's notes: "You're beyond now- redemption, and no one's going to catch you when you fall." Harry’s back at Hogwarts. His allegiances are wavering. It’s only a matter of time… [Slash, self-harm, eating disorders, drug use…]  


* * *

** Beyond Redemption **   
_By Sisters of Darkness_

\- - -

For this Chapter:

**Rating(s)** : R/NC-17.  
 **Pairing(s)** : Harry Potter/ Remus Lupin (platonic?).  
 **Warning(s)** : Mentions of Self-Harm.

\- - -

**Chapter IX**   
_By CS WhiteWolf_

“ **H** ow’re you doing?” He asked, handing over a cup of hot chocolate as he seated himself beside his companion. 

“Fine,” came the reply, a frown and a pause then, “alright I guess,” a shrug of the shoulders this time, and averted eyes. 

Remus reached out, gently cupping the young man’s face in his hand and tugging upwards until their eyes met. A silent battle of wills taking place as they stared unblinkingly at each other. 

“I won’t force you to tell me anything, Harry, but all I ask is you don’t lie to me.” His eyes softened, “Or yourself.” He added as an afterthought.

Harry turned his face away with a sigh, “Bad,” he admitted in his defeat, “Terrible really,” He said quietly, “I’m so confused, Moony. So confused and conflicted and… and I just don’t know!” He looked up at the werewolf before averting his eyes once again with a heavy sigh.

“Do you want to talk about it?” 

Another shrug was given in reply as the boy took a sip of his hot drink so as to prevent talking. He winced a little, no doubt having burnt his tongue as a result.

Remus cocked his head, watching the young man carefully, “You’ll have to talk about it some time, cub.” He said.

Harry gave a soft smile at the endearment but offered no further acknowledgement to Remus’ words, choosing instead to stare intently into the fire burning in the hearth. 

They lapsed into a comfortable silence. Remus took a long sip at his hot drink, the aromas of rich dark chocolate with just that added hint of mint teasing his senses. It was all he could do not to moan at the pleasure of it all. Though he did close his eyes in enjoyment in order to relish it all the more. 

Bright green eyes were the first things he saw upon his gradual descent back to the here and now. He blinked once as he swiped his tongue over the frothy substance gathered upon his top lip, receiving a twitch of the lips from the young Gryffindor in response of the gesture. Remus put his mug down and turned his attention back to the boy beside him only to have Harry place his own mug down and crawl over to him, curling himself up against Remus’ side, nuzzling his face into the older man’s chest. 

Remus automatically wrapped his arms around the boy he thought of as his cub, threading his fingers through the deceptively coarse hair. He remained silent throughout; waiting for Harry to start the conversation he knew the boy was about to begin. He didn’t have to wait long. 

“I miss him so much, Remus.” Though muffled, the werewolf’s keen hearing easily picked up the words. He was careful to keep himself from pausing in his ministrations at the declaration. 

“I know, pup, I miss him too.” He replied, neutrally but with sadness leaking through his voice. Harry shifted against him, tilting his head up so as to look Remus in the eyes. 

“I loved him you know,” he stated it plainly enough, though Remus could see the undisguised calculation in his eyes, as if he were examining Remus, waiting for his reply in order to decide to correct direction to send the conversation. 

It was one of the few moments in which Remus had seen the boy show any signs of the Slytherin the Sorting Hat had wanted him to become. There was little to no sign of the Gryffindor of old who ran headlong into dangerous situations lingering in those bright green eyes. Remus saw pain and grief reflected in his gaze, but above all he saw the calculated honestly the boy was expressing. 

“I loved him too,” Remus said softly, carefully. 

Harry’s eyes narrowed slightly, as if unsure the true meaning behind Remus’ words. The tip of his tongue peeked out between his lips, flittering across to moisten them a little before sucking his bottom lip into his mouth and biting down on it. 

“No,” he began in a breathy whisper, “I mean I _loved_ him.” 

Remus was silent a long moment, he could feel his heart rate pick up minutely and wondered if Harry would be able to tell. “I _loved_ him too, Harry.” 

They stared at each other, eyes meeting unflinchingly. Only the regular ticking of the old grandfather clock above the mantle and the erratic sound of crackling flames from the fireplace punctuated the stillness between them. Harry was the first to drop his gaze, but not before Remus saw the betrayal in his eyes.

The dark-haired Gryffindor made to move out of Remus’ embrace, but the tightening of arms about his waist and shoulders prevented the movement. Harry struggled a little but Remus was unrelenting. Burning green eyes looked up, searing him with their angry tear-filled gaze. 

“Let me go!” he growled. 

“No, Harry. Calm down.” The words were said with authority and offered no room for disobedience. Harry stilled in him arms, glaring up at him. 

“You misunderstand me, Harry-cub. Sirius was faithful to you, always. Never believe otherwise.” 

It took a long while, but eventually Harry gave a slight nod of the head indicating his acceptance of the statement. It took another few minutes for the boy to relax once more in his arms, curling himself back up into a more comfortable position. 

“Did you know, Moony?” 

Remus looked down- at a mop of black hair, Harry was staring into the fire again. He gave a small sigh. 

“I had always suspected. I don’t know if you’re aware- you never did do that essay on werewolves from your third year if I recall correctly- but those of my disposition have enhanced senses passed onto us by the wolf, senses that are activated after the first change and last until death. My enhanced sense of smell gave me the suspicion that you and Sirius were closer than you ought to have been.”

Harry had tensed slightly at the mention of ‘enhanced sense of smell’, and though Remus made sure to finish his sentence without pause, he did not miss the slight shift in position as the young man reached one hand under the sleeve of his robe. Remus didn’t have to guess to know what he was doing, the suddenly sharp scent of blood tickled at his nose. The boy had just reopened a recently fresh wound, and from the scent of it, it was a deep one. 

Remus closed his eyes, breathing deeply, savouring the smell- the smell of Harry’s blood, damn the boy! It was only when he made to look at the young man in question that he realised that his eyes had fallen shut of their own accord, he opened them, his eyes fierce as they met with Harry’s own. 

The boy twisted in his arms, turning himself to kneel upon the couch, facing Remus. “Then you knew about this as well.” He never said what ‘this’ was, but he didn’t have to, they both knew what he meant. 

“Not for definite,” he replied, managing to keep the growl in his voice down to a minimum. 

“But you do now?” Green eyes flashed between fear, excitement and trepidation. 

Remus’ gaze flickered towards Harry’s arms before climbing back up towards his face. 

“Perhaps,” he replied, his voice thick. Harry nodded his head, shuffling closer towards him.

“I think Snape might know,” Harry began, moving his hands to clasp at Remus’ shoulders, partly to keep his balance, partly for the contact. 

“Oh?” Remus’ hands automatically sought purchase on Harry’s hips, as he tilted his head to look up at the dark-haired Gryffindor. 

Harry nodded, biting at his lip, his gaze once more averted to the fire, “He sees things,” he began, “In Occlumency, and I can’t stop him. I can’t ever block him.” 

Remus’ eyes flashed, unseen by Harry.

“I know, Harry.” His hand’s slipped up Harry’s sides as the young man seated himself upon his lap, turning to face Remus directly. 

“Do you?” he asked. 

Remus nodded. “Yes.” 

Harry licked his lips, his eyes flickering over Remus’ mouth before flittering back up to meet warm brown eyes flecked with gold. He was watching him closely. Harry shimmied closer, one of his hands falling from Remus’ shoulder, to run halfway down his chest where it paused and rested. 

“Is there something else, Harry? Something you don’t want Severus to see?”

The dark-haired Gryffindor took a slightly shuddering breath, lifting the hand still on Remus’ shoulder to cup his cheek. His face was close to Remus’ own. So close he could feel the older man’s breath whispering across his suddenly flushed skin, could almost taste the subtle smells of rich dark chocolate and mint on Remus’ breath. 

“He’ll see everything eventually,” Harry said, his words but a breathless murmur as he stroked his hand up the faintly rugged cheek, his mouth hovering just over the werewolf’s. 

“Won’t you stop him?” Remus asked, already knowing the answer. Harry could feel the rumbling vibrations of the older man’s chest as he spoke. 

“I can’t,” Harry whispered, his eyes once more flickering between Remus’ eyes and lips.

“Why not?” Remus ghosted his mouth across his cubs. 

“I- I don’t know how to,” he began to chew his lip. 

“And if you did?”

“I-,” and here he paused, that look of cunning and calculation flashing through his eyes before settling back. “Sometimes I want him to see,” he said earnestly, “Sometimes I just want anyone to see,”

“To see what?” 

“Everything. Nothing.” He gave a delicate shrug of his shoulders, not meeting Remus’ eyes as he began trailing his fingers across the older man’s mouth. 

“You can kiss me, pup.” Remus stated simply, softly. Harry’s hand stilled momentarily as he looked into the older man’s eyes. He gave the slightest nod of the head before sliding his hand up the werewolf’s face and threading it through his greying brown hair, his other hand climbing back up Remus’ chest to cup at his face. 

The werewolf could practically hear the increased rhythm of the boy’s heartbeat, could see the heaving of his chest beneath the robes he wore as he leaned in and brushed his mouth across Remus’ own, the kiss but a breathless whisper of touch, once, twice, the flick of a tongue across his bottom lip, before the press of lips on lips. 

Remus pressed back gently, opening his mouth when Harry’s tongue requested entrance, allowing for the boy to dominate this kiss. The questing tongue lapped and teased at his own, seeking, searching. 

It was when Harry whimpered into the kiss that Remus took the incentive to break it, knowing that Harry was not doing so out of desire, but out of need. A whimper of mourning that this was not the mouth he wished it could be. 

Harry gave a small cry as Remus pulled away, leaning in to resume the kiss only to have Remus take his face and hold it in his hands. A chaste kiss was pressed to his lips before he felt himself being tugged down. He allowed himself to be manoeuvred on Remus’ lap, his lithe figure cradled tightly against the firmness of Remus’ chest. 

“It’ll get easier, pup,” he soothed, rubbing circles across Harry’s back as he stared unseeingly into the fire. 

“Will it?” Harry asked softly, nuzzling his face into his neck for the second time that night. Remus didn’t answer. “I love you, Moony,” Harry quietly said.

Remus paused in his ministrations a moment before replying, “I love you too, Harry-cub,” 

“Just not like, Sirius,” Harry clutched at his robes.

“I know, pup.” Remus sighed. 

\- - -

**To Be Continued…?**

\- - -


	10. Chapter X

  
Author's notes: "You're beyond now- redemption, and no one's going to catch you when you fall." Harry’s back at Hogwarts. His allegiances are wavering. It’s only a matter of time… [Slash, self-harm, eating disorders, drug use…]  


* * *

** Beyond Redemption **   
_By Sisters of Darkness_

\---

For this chapter:

**Rating(s)** : NC-17.  
 **Pairing(s)** : Implied Draco Malfoy/Severus Snape.  
 **Warning(s)** : Mentions of self-harm/ eating disorder; adult language.

\---

**Chapter X**   
_By Aurora Enkeli Medeis_

**D** raco chewed slowly on one of the strawberries from his plate. The last month had been like this: gradually getting through plate after plate of fruit in an attempt to rebuild his ability to eat. Severus had assured him that it was the best way to do it but quite frankly there was only so much fruit Draco could stand.

With the Quidditch season beginning soon he knew he would have to start eating properly again, lest he pass out on his broom while twenty feet in the air. The first practice of the season would be taking place that afternoon; Gryffindor of course had been favoured.

Draco picked a grape from his assortment of fruit and popped it in his mouth as the Golden Trio came sauntering into the hall. He bit down harder than necessary, the grape popping and letting juice trickle over his tongue. Potter was looking even more distant than usual. He sat down across from Granger and Weasley, staring blankly at his empty plate until a sandwich was dropped in front of him by a concerned looking Granger. Potter offered her a weak smile that didn’t reach his eyes, which Draco noticed, were rimmed by dark hollows. Nevertheless Potter picked up the sandwich and began nibbling feebly on a corner.

Absent-mindedly Draco picked up yet another piece of fruit without even looking before putting it in his mouth. Biting down, the taste of raspberry flooded his taste buds, a single bead of juice sliding out the corner of his mouth. He caught it with the tip of his index finger and flicked his tongue out to remove it.

He went back to watching Potter who was now halfway through his half-hearted attempt to eat. Draco wondered if Potter would actually eat at all if it weren’t for Granger and Weasley force-feeding him. He didn’t have time to ponder over everyone’s favourite little saviour though; there were more important things such as the ‘Origins and Theory Behind Modern Day Healing Charms’ essay that he had unfortunately forgotten was due for Monday.

Draco stood up from the table, swinging his legs over the bench and making his way between the house tables on the way out of the hall. He noticed Potter leaving at the same time and pushed down the familiar hostile feelings that he was finding unshakeable. Sadly he had promised Severus that he would try to forget that he hated the dark-haired boy. 

The Potions Master had assured him that a great deal of thought had gone into the possibility of adding Potter to their circle but it seemed like an obvious course of action, given the condition that Potter was in. Draco had been out numbered: three against one.

He and Potter came side by side at the doorway. The blond turned to him with a sharp nod.

“Potter,” He said courteously as he went to turn down the corridor towards the dungeons.

“Malfoy,” Came the equally as courteous reply just before Potter turned and made his way up the marble staircase. Draco headed down the stairs and ignored the voice in his head (that sounded remarkably like Severus) that was saying ‘That wasn’t so hard, was it?’

As he made his way through the dingy corridors he almost felt sorry for Potter, almost. The circles beneath his green eyes were even darker when seen up close. His cheeks were hollow and gaunt, making him look not far from a corpse. All Draco could think was that the boy was in dire need of one of his nutrition potions. Perhaps Severus should pester him to eat instead; at least it would keep the man off his back for a while if he were suitably occupied with force-feeding Potter.

He reached the common room, swinging the entrance open over dramatically and sweeping up the spiral staircase into his dormitory. He greeted Blaise, who was sitting on his bed flipping through a potions textbook. Draco dropped to his knees in front of his trunk and cast the charms to unlock it.

“Hiding something, Draco?” He heard Blaise asking. Draco smirked and looked over his shoulder.

“Aren’t we all?” He countered. Blaise simply returned the smirk and went back to flipping pages. Draco pulled two charms textbooks from the top of his trunk along with a roll of parchment. As he rummaged around for some quills his fingers brushed over the varnished surface of his wooden box. His fingers recoiled slightly, heartbeat increasing. He wanted to open it and retrieve what was inside. But he couldn’t. Not with Blaise right there. He could sneak it out of course. But he might be caught. Not if he were Slytherin enough about it though.

His wrapped his fingers around the box, getting prepared to slip it out of the trunk and into his robes. It had been weeks since he had last felt the cool of a blade on his skin. In fact it hadn’t been since Severus found him bleeding, drunk and packed with cocaine almost a month ago that Draco had been back inside that box. 

Now he was tempted. So very tempted. He began pulling it out slowly but heard Blaise stir on the bed and pulled away quickly, leaving the box inside. Blaise said his goodbyes and left the room, carrying his book and muttering something about ‘Bloody Potions’.

Draco went back into his trunk, hands shaking the smallest amount as he extracted the box. He stood up and sat it on the desk, lowering himself into a chair. He ran his fingers almost lovingly over the lid of the box. He reached down and took his wand from where he had left it on the floor and pointed it at the box. At the precise moment he was about remove the locks he heard the unmistakeable sound of Crabbe and Goyle’s heavy footsteps coming up the stairs.

He jumped up quickly and dropped the box back in his trunk and began searching around for quills and a pot of ink. Crabbe and Goyle came noisily into the room, voices growing quiet when they saw Draco’s agitated state so as not to annoy him further.

Eventually Draco pulled out an eagle feather quill and an ornately carved silver and glass pot. He gathered his things together and stalked out of the room and down into the common room.

He dropped his textbooks, parchment, quills and ink onto an empty desk in the furthest corner he could find. Draco spread out the parchment and opened one book at page three and ninety-four and the other at page two hundred and forty for cross-referencing. 

Draco began scanning the pages of the first book, jotting down numerous points about the very first charms used by healers during early wizarding battles before switching to the other book to read a first hand account by a witch who had contributed to the development of such charms.

Half an hour passed slowly, then the next hour went by, if it were possible, even slower. Draco found himself growing increasingly irritated by the incessant chatter of the younger students, his hands beginning to shake further. 

The noise began to build, buzzing around him like an irrepressible fly. Before long he could take it no longer and slammed his quill onto the desk, causing it to snap and everyone’s attention to shift to him. The occupants of the common room (mostly fourth years and under) stared at Draco who almost seemed to be sparking magic in the corner.

He stood up quickly from his chair, causing it to topple backwards onto the floor. Draco stormed up the stairs and threw a spell at the door to open it before he even got there. He dropped to his knees quickly in front of his trunk and unlocked it in a hurry. He groped around for the box and extracted it, unlocking it with shaking hands. He took the well-used razor blade from the bottom, locked it once more and closed his trunk over. He threw a locking charm over his shoulder as he left the dormitory. When he reached the bottom of the stairs he closed his fist around to blade to conceal it. He stormed out of the common room and into the hall.

Draco walked quickly through the corridors, scowling at every one who even dared breath in his direction. He ascended the stairs and crossed the entrance hall. As he stepped through the open doors the cool, October air hit him, calming him down if only a fraction. He followed a path round to the side of the castle and rested his back against the stone wall.

He uncurled his fingers to find a bloodstained palm. The razor blade had sliced into various parts of the skin as he had unconsciously gripped it tighter and tighter. Draco let out a breath he wasn’t even sure he had been holding as more droplets of blood pooled on his hand.

He brought his palm to his mouth and licked the many small wounds clean of the blood. He lost himself in the metallic taste but was awoken from his reverie by a commotion coming up a path towards the castle. Draco slipped his razor blade into a pocket on the inside of his robes and peered around the corner.

The Gryffindor Quidditch team. Draco rolled his eyes as Weasley walked at the head of the group as if he were any kind of leader. Draco’s eyes scanned over the mass of crimson and gold for a head of messy black hair. Surprisingly Potter wasn’t there. Draco did a quick people count. There were six people there so Potter obviously hadn’t left the team. For a moment Draco was sorely disappointed: if the team didn’t have Potter this season then Slytherin were guaranteed the cup.

Draco looked down to the Quidditch pitch and managed to make out a crimson blur shooting from goal post to goal post. He began walking down the leaf littered path, resisting the urge to turn his nose up at the red and gold colours of the trees. It would seem the ‘wonder’ of Gryffindor was inescapable in any aspect of life. He kicked a few leaves upwards with the toe of his shoe.

He reached the entrance to the pitch and snuck into the bleachers at the Ravenclaw side of the pitch. He took a seat by the edge of the teachers box, concealing himself well beside the rising panel of material.

He looked up in time to see Potter making a rather impressive loop and turn himself around to face the other way. Draco actually found himself shocked for only the slightest of moments when he saw the way Potter was flying.

Draco obviously knew how well Potter flew, he had been beaten by him enough times to know, but for the last month Draco had watched him walking slowly around the school, head hung with little to no evidence of life in his green eyes. Now, however, Draco saw the life and fire that he was used to seeing in the other boy.

As Potter recovered from a spectacular dive Draco could see the Potter he had grown accustomed to over the years. The Potter that was now ascending straight into the clouds bore no resemblance to the one who had taken to slicing up his arms. Freedom. That was why, Draco realised.

While twenty, thirty and forty feet in the air there were no worried glances being shot your way. No one was walking on tiptoes around you or speaking to you as if you may break down within the second. Draco had seen Potter treated like something that was precious for six years and had loathed him for it. This year, of course, it was even worse. He was now treated like cracked glass but as Draco watched him practically free fall twenty feet with his broom before looping upside down and going back up into the clouds he could see the power in him.

Were the teachers and the other thirds of the trio oblivious to this? Draco frowned. None of them seemed to grasp that yes, Potter was depressed but he was probably stronger than the lot of them.

Piss Potter off and the magic would fall off him in waves, another something that Draco knew first hand. With the right cultivation Potter could be strong, in fact scarily so. Draco didn’t have to like him but he could respect power in someone.

He knew it was the reason they wanted him. Potter would be an unbelievable asset to the Dark Lord; _if_ he could be converted. What Draco couldn’t get his head around was the knowledge that Potter was wanted for the Inner Circle. Perhaps one sixteen-year-old boy wasn’t enough for them anymore.

_‘Or perhaps,’_ the Severus like voice told him, _‘they can see past petty hatred.’_

“Oh shut up.” Draco said out loud as he stood up. He shook his head at himself: he had thought he wasn’t quite at the stage of multiple personalities yet.

He snuck carefully back out the bleachers and to the exit. Draco looked up at Potter one last time.

A large gust of wind blew across the pitch at the same moment Potter had stopped to hover in mid air. The wind blew the messy mop of black hair off of his face and carried several leaves over the pitch, making the scene rather picturesque as the flakes of gold fluttered around him. 

Draco tutted.

“How cliché.”

\- - -

**To Be Continued…?**

\- - -


	11. Chapter XI

  
Author's notes: "You're beyond now- redemption, and no one's going to catch you when you fall." Harry’s back at Hogwarts. His allegiances are wavering. It’s only a matter of time… [Slash, self-harm, eating disorders, drug use…]  


* * *

** Beyond Redemption **   
_By Sisters of Darkness_

\- - -

For this Chapter:

**Rating(s)** : NC-17.  
 **Pairing(s)** : Mentions of Harry Potter/ Sirius Black.  
 **Warning(s)** : Self-Harm; Angst.

\- - -

**Chapter XI**   
_By CS WhiteWolf_

**H** e lay on his bed, eyes staring unseeingly at the darkened canopy above him as memories of the recent past plagued him. As usual, his memories were of the one he had lost, of Sirius. Such thoughts always sent a pang of pain to his heart as hours of suppressed grief finally took toll and overwhelmed him. It was like this almost every night since his return to Hogwarts. Since he had been forced into continuing his Occlumency lessons- lessons that so far only resulted in making him relive events he’d rather not think upon. 

It was after one such lesson whereupon he had remembered something he didn’t even know he didn’t know that found him enclosed within the comforting confines of his hangings, silencing charms in place, lying upon his bed with tears steadily trickling from his eyes, running in rivulets down his temples and into his hair. He made no move to wipe them away, barely acknowledging their existence so caught up in his reminiscences. 

‘ _I love you,_ ’

Sirius’ voice echoed through his head, repeating words and phrases indicative of their time together. He tried to contain a sob, taking huge choking breaths in a failed attempt to calm himself. 

‘ _I love you, Harry._ ’ 

The same phrase repeated over and over, beating at his head- his heart- until he had no choice but to surrender to the inevitable and scream out his pain and grief. 

“I love you!” He shouted out into the silence of the room, knowing that no one would hear him but wanting the world to know all the same. “I love you, dammit!” he allowed his sniffling to turn into sobs, heart-wrenching expressions of his anguish. He rolled over, burying his face into his pillows, his voice muffled when next he spoke. 

“Oh Sirius, I love you. I love you!” he pushed himself upwards, scrubbing at his face with his hands before balling his fists and slamming them into his pillow. They had never said they loved each other, neither of them. They had both felt it, both known it. Yet neither had mustered the courage to confront the other with their feelings; to say ‘ _I love you_ ’, and mean it as something more than platonic in nature. 

But in one memory, in one memory brought to the forefront of his mind during Occlumency, Harry saw and heard and knew,

‘ _I love you, Harry,’ murmured Sirius, a fleeting kiss pressed to his temple as he lay in a half-sleep._

And he wished he’d said it, prayed every day and every night since his lover fell through the veil that he had gathered his courage to say those three little words. But he hadn’t, and he hated himself for it, hated Sirius for not saying them when he was coherent enough to remember them, and loved him so much more for saying them at all.

“Oh gods, oh gods I’m sorry, so sorry!” He slammed his fist into his pillow, “Why did you leave me? Sirius! You bastard, how could you- how could _I_ …” and when the pillows offered him no release he turned to the headboard for absolution, begging for a physical hurt with which to battle his emotional ones and soothe him. 

The cringing crunch of his hand connecting with the wooden board echoed in his ears, causing an ephemeral moment of peace to bloom within him before it dimmed away, only the quite ache of his wounded hand lingered and that was nothing compared to the open wounds of his heart as it beat the sorrows of his loss to him. 

He screamed his frustrations even as he used his unwounded hand to dig through his bedside table until it came into contact with the cool steel of a knife. The very same knife his godfather had gifted him once upon a time. It was guaranteed to open any lock, and cut through any persistent materials. Harry planned to cut. To cut open the flesh of his arms, slicing skin and drawing forth life-giving blood. He had never used a knife before- razorblades being his preferred method, but for now, for this, it seemed fitting. 

He cut to control his pain. To dampen the emotional hurting he felt and to compensate it with the physical hurting of stinging cuts. To punish himself when others would not, and to reward himself when no one else knew to. 

With his tongue between his lips, his tears slowing drying upon his face he lifted the sleeve of his pyjama top and surveyed the criss-crossed patterns indicative of years self-abuse with a blade of some calibre. Many were healed over in pink and white scars, think and thin slices alike- a masterful collage of beauty and pain telling tales of his emotional journey through life thus far. 

It was not a pretty story, and certainly not a pretty picture for anyone should they look upon them. Not that anyone else would. No one except Sirius had ever seen these hurts he bestowed upon himself. They were ugly, repulsive, and yet strangely attractive. They were pretty in that they were entrancing; they made him feel both in control and controlled at the same time.

His eyes traced the thin slices that he knew to be the same ones Sirius had lavished his affections upon in the memory Snape had wrenched from his head during their very first Occlumency lesson of the year. His stomach coiled with dread and guilt. Below those whitened scars came a patch of thick pink ones- these ones had been made right after that very same lesson as he punished himself for what the Potions Master had seen, fearful of being discovered yet needing to hurt himself all the more over it. 

Surprisingly nothing more had been said about the memories- claimed dreams- and He’d found himself strangely disappointed yet relieved. 

He knew he was rubbish at Occlumency, the lessons last year proved that- he had achieved nothing in the magical defence of his mind from outside (or in the Dark Lord’s case, inside) attackers, and as such he knew that should the Potions Master desire it, he could witness everything he wanted no one to see, what he wanted no one to know. 

He hated how powerless we was to control this aspect of his life. Hated the feelings he was forced to feel during them, the memories he remembered, and the pain of it all. And the headaches he got after having his mind raped over and over again- he hated them as well. But what he hated most of all were the two people forcing this upon him. And Severus Snape was not one of them. 

He held the knife as if it were a quill, ready to scribe and carve his desires into his arm. He chose a relatively unmarred patch of flesh just below the crook of his elbow, dragging the blade over his skin, twisting the knife this way and that as a low hiss slipped between his lips- the sound made neither in pleasure nor pain, it was simply just a sound, a sound almost representing what the tearing flesh could not. 

And then came the sting. He had barely begun before the blood started pooling up and drizzling over his skin to bead swiftly and fall just as quickly as gravity took its toll and the building amounts of blood were encouraged to fall.

He immediately knew he was carving to deep, but he didn’t care. He ignored the blood and the throbbing of pain as he carved letter after letter until he was finished in the task of what he had set out to do. A few tears leaked from his eyes in grief as he swiped his hand across the bloodied flesh. He relished the nip of pain that only grew worse as he dipped his head to kiss passionately at the wounds, drinking in the blood, digging his tongue into the slashes and sucking, suckling at the self-mutilation he had bestowed upon himself. 

He moaned in pleasure, falling back onto his bed, ignoring the bloodstained blankets beneath him as well as the now bloodied pyjama’s he wore. There was still too much blood. Though having slowed considerably, usually by now it would have begun to clot and stop on its own. He couldn’t seem to bring himself to care. His breathing was heavy, lips swollen and stained with the red of his own life’s essence. 

He eyelids drooped as he stared at the newest additions to his collage of pain; his eyes both appraising and scorning the slightly jagged lines and curved. He ran a cautious finger along the lettering he had carved, an additional stinging spike of pain lacing through him in protest of the action. 

S I R I U S

The letters, large and angry ran across his arm, a bold declaration of the depth of his emotions. He pulled his arm to his chest, cradling it against himself as he began to shiver.

“Siri,” he moaned, unable to stand the grief that plagued him, but terrified to lose it should he in turn forget his loss. “I’m sorry, Siri,”

His eyes fell shut even as he blinked to keep them open. He had to clean up after himself. Had to- had to- his thought process broken by a shuddering yawn that carried him over the edge of consciousness and into the land of nod, where only haunted dreams and aching memories awaited him. 

\- - -

_A knife carving into flesh- S… Sirius falling through the veil… I… blood washed down a drain… R… Remus and Sirius laughing… I… Sirius pounding into him from behind… U… Snape asking to look at his arms… S… A name carved so deeply it fails to heal…_

His breath came in short, sharp gasps, head pressed into the cool stones of the floor as he fleetingly wondered how it was he came to be upon the floor in the first place. His heart pounded so sharply against his ribcage he feared it would smash out through his chest. Slowly he pushed himself to his knees, waiting as his head stilled from the passing wave of dizziness before finally getting to his feet. 

He didn’t look up. Didn’t dare look up. He hugged his arms about himself, eyes looking anywhere but at the man before him, searching, looking for a way out, any way out. 

“Mr. Potter,” Harry shivered at the voice, bile climbing up his throat as his stomach flipped unpleasantly. 

_‘Oh gods, oh gods, oh please no, he can’t know!’_

Harry lifted his eyes to meet with the black onyx of Snape’s gaze. He hesitated only a moment before launching himself for the door, but a moment was all the Head of Slytherin House needed to draw his wand and prevent his untimely escape. 

He grabbed at the doorknob, twisting and tugging to no avail. He punched the wood before him before pivoting around to face the Potions Master. 

“Mr. Potter, come here,” Harry shook his head, his hair flying across his face with the momentum of the action. His hand was still behind him, gripping the handle as if it were his lifeline. 

“I want you to show me your arms, Mr. Potter,” Snape’s face was devoid of emotion, even his voice was back to its eerie unemotional tone. Harry shook his head again watching as Snape’s eyes glittered at the defiance. 

“You seem to be under the illusion that you have a say in the matter, Potter,” Snape hissed, “Now you will either show me your arms or you will be going to see the headmaster.” 

“You- you’ll take me to the headmaster anyway.” He choked out.

Snape raised an eyebrow taking a step towards him. Harry jumped backwards, hitting the door behind him. 

“You make it sound as if you do indeed have something to hide.” He paused, a sneer forming upon his lips as he barked out his command, “Now show me your arms!” 

Harry hastily lifted the sleeves of his robes, revealing nothing but smooth, unblemished skin. Snape scowled at him. 

“Do you take me for a complete fool, Mr. Potter?” His eyes dared the boy to agree. Harry hurriedly shook his head, no. 

Severus looked critically at him for a moment before stalking up to him. 

He caught hold of Harry’s upper arm, gripping it tightly as he pulled him across the classroom and through into his office where he proceeded to push the struggling boy into a chair as he set about collecting a jar of blue powder and shooting an incendio at the dead hearth, lighting a fire. 

“We can either do this the easy way or the hard way,” he said, turning to face the glaring Gryffindor who was rubbing his arm sulkily. 

“You’ll take me to Dumbledore anyway,” Harry responded, eying the pot of floo powder with more than a little resentment. 

Severus watched Harry, weighing him in his minds eye as he planned his next words. They needed- _wanted_ \- the boy on their side, and all those of the Inner Circle- save Draco for the moment- could see the benefits of having this boy on their side. He needed to gain the boy’s trust without him becoming suspicious but every move he made from this point on would only make the boy more suspicious. To avoid that would mean taking Harry to Dumbledore as he expected, as he would have done were he not wanting the boy to change his allegiances. 

Severus sighed slightly, noting the boy’s attention sharpening minutely at the gesture. Interesting. He looked up meeting Harry’s eyes, “I don’t think the Headmaster would quite understand.” He said simply. 

Harry tensed, his eyes flashing a variety of emotions- confusion, suspicion, gratitude, doubt. 

“Take off the charms,”

“Why?”

Snape ignored the question for one of his own, “How long ago did you carve the mut- your godfather’s name into your arm?”

Harry’s eyes narrowed, catching the slip of tongue in reference to Sirius. It wasn’t that Snape had almost insulted the man, rather that he had stopped himself from doing so that piqued his interest. He surveyed the man, trying to gauge his sincerity, not that Snape had ever lied to him before- he’d never been nice to him before, a little misguided with his facts, but he’d never lied. Then again, telling him that Dumbledore wouldn’t understand (though an understatement), wasn’t exactly saying that he wouldn’t take him to see the man anyway. 

“Last week.” He said tensely, taking a chance.

Severus nodded, perching himself against the edge of his desk giving Harry some space. 

“Will you remove the charms?” he asked this time.

“Why?” Harry’s heartbeat sped up even more though his breathing remained forcibly calm. 

Why indeed. 

“I am- unsure as to how to answer that, Mr. Potter.”

Harry blinked at the words- not just for the fact that Snape had deigned to answer him at all, but that he said it with such openness. This wasn’t the Professor Snape, Potions Master of Hogwarts he was used to, and he wondered if it was all an act- some ploy or plot to get something from him. Was this a glimpse at the real Severus Snape? Or was this the spy coming into play? 

“Why should I trust you?” 

“You shouldn’t.” 

Such a Snape-like answer. He pulled his wand from his robes, meeting Snape’s gaze again, trying to see past the mask the man wore. His heart thundered against his chest but he couldn’t do it. He couldn’t bring himself to show his naked arms to this man. Harry saw something flash through his professor’s eyes before the man stood, a wave of his wand and the office door clicked open. 

“I expect you for your lesson on Wednesday night.”

Harry stumbled to his feet, backing away unable to believe he was being let off- Snape knew! He knew, dammit! So why in all seven hells was he just letting him away with it? Why hadn’t he been taken to the headmaster? Shipped off to St Mungo’s? Or whatever it was they did for people who sliced their bodies open for any particular reason?

“P-professor?” He stuttered even as he gripped the door handle, prepared to leave. 

“Go, Potter.”

And he did. Not daring to jinx such good luck by lingering any longer. 

Sleep was a long time in coming that night as he lay upon his bed, examining his arms in the dull blue glow of a _lumos_ spell. The carved initials of his lover’s name still oozed the clear healing liquid that was supposed to scab and eventually scar. He’d have to bandage his arms again he knew, his healing spells weren’t nearly as powerful as they should be to properly mend the damage he’d done. 

Harry rolled over onto his side, gathering his legs up and cradling his arms to his chest, cocooning himself into his blankets as his mind drifted over the events of the day. Snape hadn’t even belittled him for not being able to block him during their Occlumency lesson- but considering the circumstances it hardly seemed to matter. 

But what really bugged him was the fact that he now knew for definite that Snape knew or at least had enough evidence to have concluded that he’d not only had relations with his godfather, but that he was a self-harmer as well- and the man had done next to nothing about it. He wasn’t sure how he felt about this, sure he’d told Remus that he sometimes wanted Snape to see things, well, not just Snape, just anyone who could understand really…

And maybe that was it… maybe Snape, _understood_? 

He snorted into his pillow. The man was a bastard. A complete and utter bastard, and no amount of neutrality towards him would change the fact that he had a personal vendetta against Harry Potter for something his father did. No, Snape didn’t understand him. He couldn’t- wouldn’t- trust Snape. 

\- - -

**To Be Continued…?**   
_A/N: Sisters of Darkness would once again like to thank both Sansa and Leila for being two constant reviewers of 'Beyond Redemption'. Due to the rather astounding number of reads we've been receiving over the posting of the last few chapters, we implore all you lurkers out there to review, at least once, though every so often would be much preferred! All comments are taken into consideration, and constructive criticism is much appreciated._  
Thanks for reading!  
Peace,  
Sister of Darkness,  
CS WhiteWolf 

\- - -


	12. Chapter XII

  
Author's notes: "You're beyond now- redemption, and no one's going to catch you when you fall." Harry’s back at Hogwarts. His allegiances are wavering. It’s only a matter of time… [Slash, self-harm, eating disorders, drug use…]  


* * *

** Beyond Redemption **   
_By Sisters of Darkness_

\- - -

For this chapter:

**Rating(s)** : R/NC-17.  
 **Pairing(s)** : None.  
 **Warnings(s)** : Adult Language; Mentions of Eating Disorder/Self-Harm. 

\- - -

**Chapter XII**   
_By Aurora Enkeli Medeis_

**I** t was the usual hustle and bustle of a Hogwarts dinner at the Slytherin table. Crabbe and Goyle fought idiotically over potatoes, chicken drumsticks and several other kinds of food, Blaise sat in quiet conversation with Theodore and Pansy tried everything in her power to flirt with Draco. Said blond was partaking in his normal ritual- force himself to nibble on vegetables, ignoring the smells of all the meat, while watching Potter surreptitiously.

The Gryffindor was still being forced by his housemates to eat. He prodded idly at the scrap of meat on his plate, head held in his left hand as he ignored what was going on around him. Even Draco was getting sick of the worried glances that Granger and Weasley kept throwing Potter’s way.

Potter, Draco noticed, was beginning to look steadily worse with every passing day. The dark circles beneath his eyes seemed darker every morning so either he wasn’t sleeping or his sleep was deeply troubled. His body appeared thinner and frailer than when Draco had watched him at Quidditch practice. 

Draco frowned as he finished his last bites of vegetable and informed his housemates of his departure. Pansy went to get up with him but he swiftly defused _that_ predicament and extracted himself from the bench. As he left the hall he felt eyes on him. Draco looked round subtly in Potter’s direction but the dark-haired boy still appeared to be toying with his food. Draco frowned as he left the hall, shaking his head at his own apparent delusions. 

He made his way down the staircase and through the dark corridors of the dungeons. In no time at all Draco was swinging open the entrance to the Slytherin common room and stalking his way up the stairs to the dormitory. He opened the door, closing it and kneeling by his trunk. It popped open with the casting of the appropriate charms and Draco took his polished oak box from the bottom of the case. 

Draco clambered onto his four-poster bed, pulling the drapes shut as he sat the box on the mattress. He took his wand from inside his robes, putting the tip to the box and waiting for the multiple clicks before it automatically opened. He plucked at the rip in one of the powder filled plastic bag and dipped his little finger inside.

He pulled it out, carefully manoeuvring it to his nostril so as not to drop any on the bed. He inserted the tip of his finger into his nostril and clamped the other one closed before inhaling the drug. Draco wiped any remnants from his nose and closed the box over, hearing it click again as it locked itself. He threw open the hangings and slid off the bed to the floor beside his trunk. He pulled various articles of clothing out of the way and placed the box back at the bottom of the trunk and locking it.

Standing up, Draco straightened his robes as he stood up, checking his prefects badge was on view before setting out for his designated evening patrol. First, however, he needed to pay a brief visit to Severus.

Draco made his way through the corridors of the dungeons towards the Potions classroom, barely feeling the buzz from the minute hit of drugs he had taken. He knocked twice on the door before swinging it open in typical fashion.

“Good evening, Draco.” Severus’ voice came from inside the Potions cupboard.

“Severus,” Draco said curtly as he dropped himself into the leather chair behind his Professors desk. He swung his legs up, narrowly missing pots of ink as he placed his feet on the desk. Severus swept out of the cupboard and raised an eyebrow at the young blond.

“Do make yourself comfortable,” Severus began, continuing to talk before Draco could retort, “Shouldn’t you be out on patrol?” He asked as he turned to a cabinet on the wall.

“I was just on my way there.” Draco said as he opened one of the drawers on the desk and took out a small vial of potion. “I simply wanted to tell you another observation I have made about Potter.”

“And what would that be?” Severus asked while frowning at a bottle of turquoise potion.

“He could really use one of these.” Draco stated. Severus didn’t need to turn around to know he was brandishing a vial of Nutrition Potion. “He’s getting thinner every day, if he doesn’t start eating… or taking potion,” he added as an afterthought, “he’ll be too weak to even lift his wand arm and will probably slowly kill himself.” Severus looked round at Draco, eyes narrowed slightly as if he were evaluating the blond.

“And why, pray tell, would you care?” He asked. Draco raised an eyebrow and smirked as he put his feet back on the floor and rested his elbows on the desk.

“Because he would not be of much use to us then.” Draco replied as he stood gracefully from the desk and left for his patrol. As he swung the door shut behind him, Draco missed the suspicious look the Potions Master was giving him.

He swept his way through the dungeons and up the stairs to the Entrance Hall to make the long journey up to the Seventh Floor. It could only be his luck to spend the evening walking around Gryffindor territory. When he finally ascended the many staircases he had perked up at the thought of docking points from various random Gryffindors.

Draco stalked the corridors, pausing only to force a group of third years to return to the common room. He went past the portrait of the Fat Lady and saw Granger and Weasley leaving, minus Potter. He watched as they moved a little closer to each other and snorted quietly- Weasel and the Mudblood: how very fitting.

As Draco headed along the other end of the corridor, past Flitwick’s office, he heard muffled noises coming from inside an empty classroom. He swung the door open over dramatically, startling the two pupils who were inside and causing them to jump away from their compromising position.

“Ten points each from Gryffindor and Ravenclaw.” He announced as the fifth years scurried out of the room. Draco smirked, feeling better already as he continued walking down the corridors but not coming across any more pupils to punish, much to his disappointment.

He turned when he reached the dead end beneath Trelawney’s tower and re-traced his path back along the corridor. Five minutes and no more incidents later, Draco found himself nearing the entrance to Gryffindor tower once more. He watched as it opened, hopeful that it would be another person to punish. It was Potter.

Draco’s eyes followed the dark haired boy as he headed the opposite way along the corridor from Draco, what looked like a tattered notebook clutched under his arm. Draco let Potter get further ahead before deciding to follow him.

He kept a safe distance as Potter ascended a back staircase that Draco was certain lead to the Astronomy Tower. Draco stood at the bottom of the spiralling staircase, waiting for Potter’s footsteps to die down before following. He made his way slowly up the stairs, smirking at the thought of catching Potter with someone in Hogwarts notorious make-out spot.

Draco went along the corridor in the direction of the North Tower but by the time he finally got there he could see no sign of Potter. He sighed and reasoned that he may as well catch some other unsuspecting lovebirds while searching for the Boy Wonder.

Three empty classrooms later Draco was thinking his luck may have run out for the night when he swung open a door at the very end of the corridor. It hit off the wall as it swung round on its hinges. An arid smell reached his nostrils and he screwed his face up. His eyes came to rest on a figure that was sitting on the sill by an open window. 

Potter barely looked up at Draco’s entry, only meeting the blonde’s eyes for a second before going back to the notebook. Draco slammed the door closed as loudly as it had opened and sauntered across the room. He watched Potter bring his hand to his mouth, a continual puff of smoke curling out the window.

“Well, well, what’s this?” Draco drawled as he made his way nearer Potter, “Perfect little Potter smoking on a window sill.” He said in an almost sing song voice. Potter looked up briefly, a near incredulous look on his face at Draco knowing what he was doing but he quickly shook it off as he blew smoke out the window.

Draco frowned in annoyance at Potter’s newfound passiveness. He sat himself casually down on one of the dusty desks, leaning one foot on a seat and let the other swing idly beneath the table. A few minutes past, neither boy saying a word as Draco simply observed the motions of Potter inhaling and exhaling the tobacco.

“So,” Draco began, shattering the awkward silence, “is this smoking some sort of rebellious statement?” He asked, a genuine curiosity well faked in his voice. Harry didn’t even look up, opting instead to flick the butt of his cigarette out the window before chewing thoughtfully on the end of his quill.

“Or perhaps,” the blond started again, “it is the first stage of your transformation into Harry Potter- Dark Lord for a new generation?” He asked, an eyebrow raised challengingly.

Potter finally looked round at Draco, frowning at the Slytherin. Draco smirked internally at his triumph at finally getting even the smallest reaction from Potter. Malfoys were never ones to be ignored. Draco’s triumph was short lived however when Potter turned to look back out the window.

Draco sat quietly as Potter’s face fell a little, as if something in the night sky had suddenly invoked a powerfully sad memory. He dipped his quill in the pot of ink that sat on the desk by the window. He flipped to a blank page in the notebook and began scribbling something, the scratching of the quill almost sounding too loud in the heavy silence of the room.

Draco began searching his brain for something to provoke the Gryffindor with. He was almost beginning to find the new passive, silent Potter to be disconcerting when the most obvious of conversation topics found its way onto Draco’s tongue.

“What ridiculous things are you scribbling, Potter?” The blond asked, Potter staying silent as he continued to write. Draco hadn’t expected an answer- it was what would make the following statements possible.

“Something about that dead, mutt of a Godfather? It _would_ seem that he meant a great deal to you.” Potter’s scribbling stopped and Draco smirked. “Or perhaps you are writing about how much you hate Snape?” Draco’s smirk widened when he saw Potter’s grip on his quill tightening. “No? What about everything the actions of the Dark Lord have put you through? Merlin knows that would make _such_ an interesting read.”

Potter’s knuckles looked to be turning white as his entire fist clenched around the already bedraggled looking quill. Draco stood up from the desk and strolled towards him, making a blatant move to peer over the Gryffindor’s shoulder at the pages. Potter snapped the book shut before Draco could get any closer.

“Why the secrecy, Potter?” Draco drawled. “There isn’t anything about me in there is there?” He finished, impressively feigning intrigue.

“What the fuck do you want, Malfoy?” Potter spat as he stood up from the windowsill.

“Language, Potter. I’ll have five points from Gryffindor for disrespecting a prefect.” Draco said, causing Harry to glare contemptuously at the blond. “I was merely trying to have a conversation and be civil but seeing as you seem incapable of even that I will leave you to wallow in your self-pity.”

Draco turned on his heel, robes billowing around him as he swept out of the room. He smirked as he closed the door behind him, feeling the heat of Potter’s glare on the back of his head.

\- - -

**To Be Continued…?**  
 **A/N** : _On behalf of CS and myself I would like to thank all of those lurkers who surfaced in order to review the previous chapter. Like all authors of fan fiction we both thrive on feedback so we would implore this wonderful response to continue. All comments are read (often several times for no reason other than we enjoy it) and taken into consideration. Constructive criticism is also greatly welcomed._  
Thanks for reading sweethearts,  
Sister of Darkness,  
Aurora Enkeli Medeis.

_P >S> If we get lots of (preferably nice!) reviews, Sisters of Darkness will promise to update the next chapter this Thursday, yes people, that’s in two days time, how nice are we? _

\- - -


	13. Chapter XIII

  
Author's notes: "You're beyond now- redemption, and no one's going to catch you when you fall." Harry’s back at Hogwarts. His allegiances are wavering. It’s only a matter of time… [Slash, self-harm, eating disorders, drug use…]  


* * *

** Beyond Redemption **   
_By Sisters of Darkness_

\- - -

For this Chapter:

**Rating(s)** : NC-17.  
 **Pairing(s)** : Mentions of Harry Potter/ Sirius Black.  
 **Warning(s)** : Mentions of Self-Harm.

\- - -

**Chapter XIII**   
_By CS WhiteWolf_

**D** usk steadily began to fall, spreading its darkness across the vast expanse of Hogwarts territory. Harry was once again up in the Astronomy Tower, gazing longingly out the window, feeling not for the first time in his life as if he were a being kept as a prisoner against his will, unable to escape into the freedom of the outside world. 

And in a way he was- a prisoner, a prisoner of expectations, forced to live up to how others perceived him to be, how their Boy-Hero should be. He’d always known that everyone expected ‘Harry Potter’ to behave and act in a certain manner, incidents such as those of second and fourth year only working to enforce on him the beliefs everyone had of who he was supposed to be. 

It hadn’t been until the end of last year however that he really understood what being Harry Potter meant to the Wizarding World as a whole. He was supposed to be a saviour, a knight in shining armour, their deliverer from the evil plaguing the world in the form of Lord Voldemort and his Death Eaters. To be truthful, even though he’d only learned of the prophecy about four months ago, he felt as if he’d known it his whole life, or at least part of it: _neither can live while the other survives_. 

He’d never really ‘lived’. Never had to chance to live, to be his own person- normal and unknown, without a reputation to precede him. He was a delinquent in the muggle world, a saviour in the wizarding. He snorted in contemptuous humour, the muggles had it much more down to par than the wizarding world did, or so it seemed to him. For what sane person went about cutting the pain they felt away? 

Harry rubbed tiredly at his eyes, taking a long drag of the cigarette he held loosely between his index and middle finger, as he pushed the thoughts from his mind. He didn’t want to think right now. It was why he had come up here again in the first place. Well, that and to smoke. It was a nasty little habit he’d picked up over the summer break when he was going through one particularly bad patch. 

His whole summer had been pretty much bad from start to finish, but when the very thought of Sirius’ death threatened to overwhelm him to the point that he’d begun cutting bands around his ankle because his arms weren’t healed enough to add any additional self-harm, he knew that things were perhaps starting to get a tad drastic. Of course, carving his lover’s name into his arm was also pretty drastic in itself but that was a whole other story. 

Smoking had calmed him, soothing his nerves and possibly helping to keep him sane, or at least sensible enough to stop himself from doing anything stupid when he couldn’t use his blades. 

Harry flicked the gathering ash of his cigarette out the window, pausing in his inner musings as he noticed the stars beginning to peak out from their blanket of mysteries. His eyes searching for a single star amongst the appearing constellations: The Dog Star, Sirius. 

He smiled grimly for a moment before shifting his eyes away, turning his left arm wrist up and pulling the sleeve of his robes down the few inches needed to reveal the face of his watch. He’d missed dinner, again. Hermione was not going to be pleased, he hadn’t turned up for lunch today either- though in his defence it wasn’t very appetising sitting surrounded by food you didn’t want to eat but ate anyway because of all the expecting looks and nagging voices telling you that, ‘ _you have to eat, Harry!_ ’ 

Ron would usually leave him be, going only so far as to watch him, Hermione on the other hand had no qualms about enforcing her opinion on the matter. Harry would usually just tell her that he’d gone to the kitchens for food, but after the bushy-haired girl had had the audacity to go down to the kitchens, checking to see if he’d been telling the truth, after that he’d stopped trying to placate her. 

For what really was there to say to her anymore? If he hadn’t gone to the Great Hall and he hadn’t gone to the kitchens, then logic demanded that he most probably had not eaten. So her insistent questions- ‘ _have you eaten, Harry? You weren’t at dinner, Harry, and the house elves say you haven’t been down!_ ’- were rather pointless. Besides, it wasn’t as if he’d stopped eating altogether. 

He stabbed the last of his cigarette into the stone sill, making sure it was out before flicking the butt out the window. He withdrew his wand and waved it over his robes, removing the odour of smoke. He took a deep breath of the night air, trying to gather his courage enough to walk down to the dungeons for another Occlumency lesson with Snape. 

After the last lesson he’d been feeling timid about seeing the Potions Master again, especially during class. But thankfully- or unthankfully depending upon how one looked at things- Snape was his usual snarky and sadistic self, nothing like the neutral, ‘normal’ Snape he’d seen during Monday’s Occlumency lesson. 

But Snape’s switching personalities aside, Harry decided it was about time he left the tower for the dungeons. Being late was never a good way to start a lesson and if he wanted the Head of Slytherin to be civil with him he’s better at least make an effort to be on time. 

\- - -

 

“You’re early,” Severus noted as Harry entered into the room. 

The dark-haired young man just nodded his head, not saying anything. Severus continued marking the essay before him, frowning down at the piece of parchment that was already mutilated by copious amounts of red ink, and still the Potions Master wrote more of his scathing comment. 

He really hated teaching, but more than teaching he hated marking. Having to mark the tedious drabbles of half-wits and dunderheads who couldn’t tell a broom from a ladle unless it refused to hover before them. Having to mark what these students thought were well written and thorough essays was enough to make him want to poison the lot of them. 

Rubbing at his temples, in an uncharacteristic moment of showing his human side, Severus finished marking the essay by scratching a bold F at the top. Carefully placing his quill down he stood and moved around his desk. 

Harry drew his wand, palm sweaty against the wood as he prepared to have his mind invaded once again, even as he tried in vein to clear it of all thoughts. He barely even heard his professor as he muttered, ‘Legilimens’, for suddenly there were memories upon memories flying through his mind at an alarming rate, all fighting to show at the forefront at his mind with a ferocity that made him cringe, teeth clenching together as he tried to push the memories back and Snape out. 

_…A flash of green light, a woman screaming… Cedric lying dead upon the floor, eyes lifeless and staring… Sirius ruffling his hair playfully as he pinched toast from his plate… Sirius fighting with Bellatrix… Draco Malfoy taunting him about his dead godfather…_

Harry panted for breath, finding himself on the floor, yet unable to remember having fallen. He looked up to see Snape watching him with a thoughtful but otherwise unreadable expression on his face. 

‘Something to do with, Malfoy?’ He wondered fleetingly before the man spoke again. 

“Clear your mind, Potter.” 

Harry glared a little, standing up and tightening the hold on his wand. It would help if he knew exactly how one was supposed to clear ones mind. It was a bit difficult trying to think of nothing for in thinking nothing one is in fact thinking of something and thus by Snape’s reckoning not clearing ones mind of all thoughts. 

“Again. Legilimens!” 

And that’s how the lesson proceeded from there, there were no terribly condemning memories for Snape to witness, though having the man see _anything_ in his mind was condemning in itself. 

Severus finally lifted the spell for the last time that night, tucking his wand into his robes to signal the end of the lesson. Harry straightened himself, pocketing his own wand and rubbing at his burning eyes. His head ached from the continuous attacks but thankfully was no more than a dull throbbing about his temples. 

He waited patiently for the Head of Slytherin to dismiss him, shuffling his feet a little as the man continued to stare silently at him, as if looking or perhaps waiting for something. 

Harry cleared his throat, “Sir?” He asked softly, tentatively. He watched as the Potions Master blinked once before spinning on his heel and making his way towards the back of the room where the door to his office lay. 

“Follow me, Mr Potter,” The man called smoothly from over his shoulder, not waiting for acknowledgement as he entered the office, leaving the door open for Harry. 

The Gryffindor entertained the thought of ignoring Snape’s summons and instead leaving the classroom instead. 

“Now, Potter!” he heard the unmistakably snappish quality to the Potions Master’s voice and decided that perhaps it would be better is he listened to the man after all. 

Slowly he made his way across the room until he reached the doorway to the office, proceeding to hover in the doorway until Snape turned his patented glare on him and he hurriedly entered the room. 

With a wave of his wand, the door closed behind Harry. Severus vaguely gestured for the boy to sit, trying not to smirk as he tentatively perched on the edge of his seat. 

“You remember our, _conversation_ , on Monday I presume?”

Harry swallowed heavily, nodding his head cautiously. He’d been hoping the man would have forgotten about it- as unlikely as that would have been, but omitting that he would have settled for it never having to be mentioned again. 

“Good,” the man replied, pressing his long fingers together, “I would like to see your arms this time, Mr Potter. I will not take no for an answer.” 

Harry paled, his breath hitching in his throat as he turned fearful eyes onto the man before him. Thoughts of cursing Snape and fleeing the room ran through his mind but he pushed them away, knowing that any such attempt would be futile. Gryffindor idiocy aside, there wasn’t much he could do about it was there? It was either show Snape or go to Dumbledore, or show Snape _and_ go to Dumbledore. 

“You won’t be taken to the headmaster if you comply, Potter. We’ve had this discussion before.” 

Harry bit his lip. “You told me I shouldn’t trust you.”

Severus pressed his fingers to his lips, “In this, Potter, perhaps you could try.”

Silence hung between them, pregnant with tension from both sides. 

“You promise you won’t take me to Dumbledore?”

Snape ignored the questioned. “I’ve informed Lupin only of this,” He began, “He wishes to see you about it after I’ve seen to them myself.”

Harry looked at him in shock, eyes wide in disbelief. “Y-you told Professor Lupin?” he choked out, “Why?”

Snape’s lips thinned as he pursed them together. “I presumed you would have him know rather than the headmaster?” 

Harry nodded hurriedly, “Yes, sir,” he said, not daring to ask the man why he’d not gone to Dumbledore in the first place, or why it was he seemed to be putting Harry’s best interests before his duty as a professor- which was no doubt to report such information as a student harming themselves to the Headmaster as soon as possible. Withholding such information couldn’t only be bad for the Head of Slytherin were it to be discovered he knew about it and had not said anything to the proper authority figures.

Why would Snape do such a thing? And for him of all people? 

“Can- can I go see him now?”

Severus glared at him, “After you show me the damage you’ve done to your arm. In your memory, Mr Potter you fell unconscious from blood loss, which suggests to me that you cut yourself quite deeply indeed, I would like to make sure the wounds are healing well, if at all.” 

The man raised an eyebrow and Harry felt himself squirming in his seat. It made his stomach clench to hear his Professor talking about the incident as if he were lecturing a class. 

“Potter- Harry,” Harry began shivering, but didn’t pull away as the man took his left hand, his grip surprisingly gentle as he turned the arm wrist up and pushed the sleeve down, fingers brushing over the deceptively smooth skin. 

“Please remove the charms,” Severus asked, his voice soothing, pushing aside all other emotions in order to keep the boy calm and submissive. The last thing he needed was for the Gryffindor to panic and try and run for it. He needed Potter- Harry- to trust him with this. If he could accomplish that then they would be one step closer to gaining his allegiance. The biggest hurdles being that the boy would have to meet and learn to trust the other members of the Inner Circle. Draco wasn’t the biggest problem when it came to that- the Slytherin was seen as his schoolyard rival whereas Voldemort was seen as Harry’s nemesis. 

But one step at a time. 

Severus rubbing his thumb in a soothing circle over the pulse point of Harry’s wrist, urging him mentally to withdraw his wand and comply with his wishes. Harry looked up at him, his eyes shining heavily with fear and confusion. Severus could almost read the ‘should I trust him or not’ monologue passing across Harry’s mind. 

After what seemed like an eternity, Harry finally reached into his robes and drew his wand, pointing it towards his arm just as he had two nights ago. Severus never stopped rubbing the circles around his wrist, keeping to the same slow and languid movements. 

“ _Finite Incantatem_.” Harry clenched his eyes closed, unable to look upon his arm lest he break down in tears.

Snape paused his ministrations, hissing through his teeth at the angry raw- cuts didn’t even begin to do justice to what was really mutilated flesh, carved deeply to form a name. The wounds were a deep, bloody red, colourless fluid could be seen glittering about the edges trying to heal the harm but unable to. 

“Foolish child,” Severus whispered in shock, unable to hide his emotions behind his usually flawless mask. He’d only ever seen this degree of harm during DE meetings where slashing hexes had been used and yet unless properly aimed they never went as deep as these gashes seemed to. 

“I tried to heal it,” He looked up at Harry; the young man was staring at his arm, a trail of tears silently falling from his eyes. “The spell wouldn’t work.”

“Did you want it to?” Severus looked away from Harry, focussing again on the young man’s arm.

“Yes, b- but I wanted it to scar as well. They don’t scar well with the spell.” 

The Potions Master said nothing in response as he removed his own wand and began spelling each gash closed until eventually they were nothing more than thick, reddish-pink scars. He reached into a pocket, removing a salve he’d made yesterday in preparation for today’s encounter. Having only the memory to go by, he was rather glad he’s made some now as it seemed the swelling to the boy’s arms had only increased. 

Leaning back against his desk, he rested Harry’s arm on his lap and he opened the jar and removed a dollop of ointment, the strong scent of Aloe Vera permeating through the air. Without a word he began to rub it lightly into Harry’s arm. 

Finishing he tugged the sleeve of Harry’s robes down, knowing that by tomorrow morning the swelling should have reduced and any lingering pain would have faded. The image of the self-inflicted wounds flashed through his mind, forcing Severus to school his expression least he show his true horror at what Harry had done to himself.

“You may go now, Mr Potter.” He said softly, wondering to himself if maybe the young man was too far gone to be converted. How could they ever hope for him to embrace the Dark Side when it was that very side that had caused him this pain? 

Severus bit back a sigh. It would be a waste to have to kill him if it turned out he wouldn’t align himself with the Inner Circle. 

“Why are you helping me?” Harry asked. 

The Head of Slytherin stood and fetched the pot of floo powder from the mantle above the hearth, holding it out to the boy. 

Harry stood taking a handful of the blue powder and throwing it into the fireplace, he hovered beside it however, waiting for a response to his question. 

Supposing the young man warranted an answer of some form, Severus met the startling green eyes. 

“Because maybe I understand. Goodnight, Mr Potter.” And with a dramatic swirl of robes Severus strode out of the room. Leaving the Gryffindor to his own thoughts as he tried to calm the raging tide that was his own. His hands began shaking as he headed for his rooms, a certain collection of potions the only thing on his agenda as he tried to dispel the pictures of the boy’s heavily scarred arms from his mind. 

\- - -

**To Be Continued…?**   
_A/N: You guys had better appreciate this chapter; I worked like a Trojan to get it out as promised despite a rather impromptu case of ‘writers block’. But I got past it, thankfully, and have posted for your reading pleasure so make sure to read and review! Aurora and I are astounded and absolutely thrilled at the review response we’ve had so far and implore you guys to please keep it up! It’s all rather exciting for us to see that Beyond Redemption is finally ‘taking off’ so to speak, at least by feedback standards!_  
We’d also like to know what you guys think of us changing to updates every couple of days as opposed to weekly? We can’t promise this will always be the case but we could always endeavour to do so, at the least you know you’ll always get one update a week, but we would aim to make it between two and three if you’re willing to keep up with reviews and such?  
Thanks all,  
Peace,  
CS WhiteWolf 

\- - -


	14. Chapter XIV

  
Author's notes: "You're beyond now- redemption, and no one's going to catch you when you fall." Harry’s back at Hogwarts. His allegiances are wavering. It’s only a matter of time… [Slash, self-harm, eating disorders, drug use…]  


* * *

** Beyond Redemption **   
_By Sisters of Darkness_

\- - -

For this Chapter:

**Rating(s)** : NC-17.  
 **Pairing(s)** : Mentions of Harry Potter/ Sirius Black.  
 **Warning(s)** : Drug Abuse; Mentions of Self-Harm and Eating Disorders.

\- - -

**Chapter XIV**   
_By Aurora Enkeli Medeis_

**T** ransfiguration. In Draco’s mind that one word said more than ten chapters of prose. It bored him until the point where he was positive he would look brain dead if it weren’t for his ability to hide how he was feeling. Yes, lets practice turning rodents into household objects- that would _surely_ come in handy in later life, Draco mused to himself.

It didn’t help Draco’s view on the subject that they were taught by McGonagall- Head of Gryffindor and possibly the only person who came close to being as boring as Binns. The practical side- Draco didn’t mind but it was the double period of theory that made him want to jump into the lake. Needless to say, today was one of those double periods.

He stared at the Professor, feigning interest as much as he could. The first fifteen minutes past and Draco sat idly taking notes that he thought _might_ come in useful (not that he needed them- he could already pull off more than NEWT Transfiguration could teach). The blond had good intentions of continuing with his note taking over the course of the class but, as with all good intentions, things steadily went sour.

As Draco’s mind wandered so did his eyes. He looked around the class, his position at the back of the room giving him the advantage of seeing the backs of everyone’s heads (a handy thing in a class half filled with Gryffindors). The blond watched for all their little idiosyncrasies- Blaise drawing patterns up his thumb; Granger’s frantic scribbling of notes as if the world would end if her quill stopped moving; Weasley’s alternating gazes that went from soft and adoring while focussed on Granger to worriedly wondering when on Potter. 

Potter. Another word that for years had felt like, to Draco, an epic novel. Although, Draco had once thought it a tale of adoration, fame and glory not the story of abuse, cutting and godfather shagging that it had turned out to be.

He kept his silver eyes fixed on Potter who was only a few rows in front of Draco on the opposite side of the class. From this vantage point the Slytherin could just see the right side of his face before it gave way to the mess of black hair.

Draco could have sworn he saw Potter stiffen when Draco’s eyes had landed on him. The blond thought it possible that, having spent so long being gawked at, Potter probably had a sixth sense that alerted him when someone was watching.

He saw Potter’s head incline to the right a little, making it clear that he was subtly trying to look round. This would be the prime time for Draco to look elsewhere or go back to his notes. However, it was beginning to feel like the time to stop with the subtlety. He had been told of Severus’ slow progress with Potter and, from what the Potions Master had told him, the slow evaluation and integration of Potter was finally churning into motion.

So Draco kept looking, even as Potter’s head turned further he kept his eyes focussed on the Gryffindor. It was only when Potter’s face had turned enough for his peripheral vision to see the Slytherin that Draco put his quill to the paper and bowed his head to his notes.

Potter looked back round quickly and Draco peered up through the curtain of blond hair that had fallen from behind his ears and sat his quill down. He watched as Potter ran his hand slowly up and down his left forearm before pausing and keeping it cupped around one particular spot. Draco wondered what was so specific about that point on his arm as he leant his elbow on the desk and rested his cheek in his right hand.

The blond continued to watch Harry again. The other boy was painfully thin, it was blatantly obvious- the baggy, flowing nature of his robes actually highlighted it as opposed to concealing it. His cheeks were beginning to look hollow, eyes gaunt and rimmed with bags that, if Potter didn’t get more sleep, would become dark enough to pass as bruises.

Potter was once again turning his head, this time Draco maintained his line of sight, waiting until he was inevitably met with tired, green eyes.

Potter’s eyes came to rest on Draco’s, he seemed on the verge of a questioning look but it looked to Draco like the Gryffindor didn’t even have the energy for that. Draco kept his face impassive, his expression showing none of the contempt that he could feel slowly brewing in the pit of his stomach.

Draco looked away, eyes shifting back to McGonagall. For the first time, Draco saw a professor showing blatant signs of concern. Of course, her lips were still set in a tight line and her face was as stern as ever but her eyes gave her away. Draco nearly snorted- it was the eyes that always gave everything away. McGonagall’s eyes were shining with concern for her Golden Boy as she watched him jotting something onto his parchment.

If the professors were concerned, then why was no one taking action to stop Potter from slowly killing himself? Draco wondered on this for the second half of the lesson. He would bet good money that McGonagall would have already voiced her concerns to Dumbledore, so why in Salazar’s name wasn’t the Headmaster saving the saviour?

The Gryffindor Head of House finally instructed the class to pack away their materials, just before the end of class was signalled. Draco was last out the class, Potter just in front of him. The Gryffindor had his head hung, bag slung over his hunched shoulders. The two of them came together in the doorway and Potter stepped to the side to allow Draco past. The Slytherin breezed past, his left shoulder just brushing over the other boy’s chest.

“Potter.” Draco said sharply, his voice not quite hiding his true feelings.

“Malfoy.” Came the equally as cold reply as Draco stalked the opposite way down the corridor from Potter. Draco let out a groan when he was far enough away from anyone. He had been wrong- this civility towards Potter probably _was_ going to cause him to strain something.

It took ten minutes for Draco to work his way through throngs of pupils and finally flop down onto a couch in Slytherin common room.

Draco ran a hand through his hair, rubbing at his temples a little as his eyes fluttered closed as an effect of tiredness- that was, in turn, a bi-product of his boredom.

He yawned as he stood up, narrowly avoiding contact with Pansy before darting up the stairs to the dormitory. Dumping his bag onto the mattress, Draco dropped onto the bed and pulled out his Arithmancy book.

He sat reading the two chapters that had been given as homework earlier that day, pausing only to have a brief conversation with Crabbe. An hour or so past, his concentration gradually dwindling until eventually he tossed the book down. Draco peered across the room to check the time from the old clock on the wall. Noticing that it was nearly time for dinner, Draco pushed himself up off the bed, straightened his robes and left the dormitory.

He made his way to the Great Hall, finding it already half filled with pupils. He walked between the house tables, casting a glance at Potter as he went. The dark-haired boy looked up from where he was staring at his empty plate. Potter’s eyes locked with Draco’s before Granger distracted him by dropping Yorkshire puddings onto his plate. The Slytherin saw Potter sigh in resignation as he picked up his knife and fork, avoiding the splash of gravy caused by the meat that Granger had added to the puddings.

Draco sat down beside Theodore Nott; the weedy looking boy struck up a conversation about that week’s Care of Magical Creatures essay almost instantly. Draco contributed short answers and comments to the conversation as he scooped some vegetables onto his plate. He cut them up, putting his knife back down before stabbing his fork into a piece and popping it in his mouth.

The blond chewed slowly, eyes scanning over the Gryffindor table to find Potter again. The boy was staring vacantly at the food on his plate, prodding at it idly with his fork. Draco kept his eyes on Potter until the Gryffindor finally looked met the blonde’s gaze. Potter looked back down quickly, his brows furrowed in a frown of obvious confusion.

Draco finished only half of what he had put on his plate, taking several large gulps of water before extracting himself from the table. He swept from the hall and down the stairs to the dungeons; once again sure he could feel Potter watching him as he left.

He entered the empty common room, making his way back up to his dormitory. Draco closed and locked the door behind him even though he felt certain that it would be at least half an hour before his roommates even left the Great Hall.

Dropping to his knees in front of his trunk, Draco cast the charms to unlock it and delved his hand inside. His fingers gripped quickly around the polished wood of his hidden box and he withdrew it from the trunk.

He carried it to the desk that sat adjacent to his bed and sat it down with a low clunk. Putting his wand tip to it, Draco heard numerous clicks as it sprung open.

He laid eyes on the two bags of cocaine on the bottom, one of which would soon be empty. Draco tipped a little out onto the surface of the desk, fixing it into a neat line with his razorblade simply for novelty value.

He put a segment of straw to his left nostril and positioned it at the tip of the line. Clamping his thumb over his other nostril, the blond inhaled and ran the straw up the length of the line.

Draco sat back slowly, blinking a couple of times and not feeling the urge to rub at his nose. He frowned and then shrugged. He poured another dosage from the bag onto the wood, pushing it into a line in the same way he had before.

Repeating his earlier action he ran the straw up the line of white powder as he inhaled deeply. This time the drugs kicked in, Draco’s eyes watering and his nose itching.

He rubbed at the bridge of his nose for a minute, taking long breaths as he felt his heart rate increasing. After the initial shock had past he packed everything back into the box and locked it. As Draco stood up he cast a cleaning charm on the desk to disperse any evidence of his actions.

He knelt back in front of his trunk, pulling various articles of clothing out the way to make room for his box. He sat it inside, covering it with the clothes before slamming down the lid of his trunk and locking it.

Draco stood up, his head spinning slightly as he did so. He placed a hand on one of the posts of his bed, blaming his light-headedness on standing up too quickly. He shook his head, making his way towards the door. With a wave of his wand he unlocked the door and swept down the stairs.

The drugs slowly coursed their way through his system, the typical feelings of his high taking their effect. For that, Draco was thankful- he would need whatever ‘support’ he could get to put his evening’s plan into action.

Draco sauntered slowly through the dungeons and up the stairs. He walked through the Entrance Hall before turning up a staircase that would lead him straight to the Astronomy Tower.

After a long ascent Draco finally reached the corridor where he knew he could find Potter. He had no guarantee that Potter would be there yet, or even at all but he was going with his instinct that trips there were a recurring thing for the Gryffindor.

He swung the door at the end of the corridor open and then swung it closed behind him, the rusted hinges squeaking before it clicked shut. His eyes focussed immediately on Potter who was sitting on the windowsill.

The dark haired boy had his left leg up at an angle, tattered notebook resting on his thigh, his other leg dangling loosely to the floor. He didn’t look up or in anyway acknowledge the arrival of the blond, who was now coming across the room towards him.

Draco pulled a chair out from beneath a dust-covered desk and swung it round so that the back of it faced Potter. He sat down gracefully, one leg on either side of the chair back as he rested his arms on it. Draco leant his face in his left hand and gazed at Potter with an analytical expression that he was sure would get to the other boy.

Potter shifted uncomfortably on the windowsill and Draco smirked at his assumption being correct. He watched as Potter tried desperately to ignore the blonde’s presence but, never one to stay quiet, Draco began the evening’s verbal assault.

“Writing any thing of great literary value, Potter?” He asked as the dark haired boy scribbled on one page of his notebook. Draco was met with silence, something he was expecting for most of his comments.

“I do doubt it.” The blond snorted. “Why is it you sit alone here? No longer welcome in Gryffindor Tower?” Once again Potter remained silent so Draco pushed on with his barrage of questions.

“Or is it that you feel left out now the weasel and Mudblood are getting a little more… friendly?” He felt a glint of triumph as Potter’s writing paused momentarily before commencing again. Draco, however, saw that the other two thirds of the Golden Trio were obviously a delicate subject.

“I suppose it will benefit the wizarding world in a way if they were to breed- it would keep all the bad genes together. Awful that pure blood should be wasted on the likes of the Weasley’s.” Potter’s shoulders definitely tensed at that and Draco was silently hoping that he had provoked a reaction. Potter slammed his quill onto his notebook and set it down but instead of turning to Draco he simply began to forage inside his robes for something.

He withdrew a cardboard packet and lighter. He took a cigarette from the packet, placing it between his lips before flipping open the lighter. Bringing the flame to the tip of the cigarette, Potter inhaled and dropped both packet and lighter onto a nearby desk.

“Why on earth would you pick up such a filthy muggle habit?” Draco realised how hypocritical that was considering he had been snorting a muggle drug only moments before leaving his dormitory. Potter wasn’t to know neither that, nor the reasoning behind it however.

“Does it make you feel like some sort of rebel? Like you have finally found something that even _you_ would be admonished for?” Potter didn’t answer, opting instead to take a long drag of tobacco and rest his head back on the wall of the alcove as he exhaled.

“Then again,” Draco continued, “perhaps you take solace in the knowledge that you are slowly killing yourself.” He watched Potter as he exhaled and closed his eyes as if in some strange state of bliss. “You aren’t _suicidal_ are you, Potter?”

Potter’s back identifiably tensed. Draco knew Potter must at least be borderline suicidal from what Severus had told him.

“You shouldn’t be. _You_ have _so_ much to live for. All that fame and _glory_. Those people that practically _worship_ you.” Potter hated all that saviour bullshit; Draco knew that perfectly well, which was why he had put such emphasis on his words.

Potter, however, still would not rise to the bait and Draco was beginning to grow frustrated. He _needed_ to get Potter riled up. He got up from his chair, beginning a languid, casual walk around the room.

“Imagine what Dumbledore would say if he knew his _Golden Boy_ was suicidal, unless, of course, that not caring about Dumbledore’s opinion is part of this ‘rebellion’?” Draco snorted as Potter took another drag and flicked some ash out the window, “Merlin knows that if you killed yourself, you’d save the Dark Lord a lot of hassle.”

Draco began racking his brains for his next comment- he really did have too many to choose from. One day, Draco thought to himself, his sharp wit really was going to slice off his tongue.

“I wonder what will kill you first?” Draco said, his voice sounding misty with feigned wondering. “The nicotine? The Dark Lord? Or maybe it’ll be your lack of food intake?”

Potter finally looked round, if only briefly, to the blond.

“Oh please Potter, don’t look so surprised. You’ve seen me watching but lets face it- even Longbottom is bright enough to notice that you’re slowly starving to death.” Potter said nothing to Draco’s comment, simply taking a final drag before tossing the cigarette butt out the window.

He stepped slowly towards Draco, causing the blond to cease his footsteps. Potter stood close, bringing them toe to toe in one on the darker corners of the room.

“Tell me, Malfoy,” Potter began, “how does it feel to have murdering, scum _bastard_ of a father?”

Draco’s face grew paler than it already was naturally. His weak spot had been triggered. Any thoughts of the Inner Circle be damned- no one could dare speak about his father in that way.

“At least I have a father, Potter,” Draco spat, “you don’t even have a godfather any more because of your own hero-complex.”

Even in the dark Draco could see the colour rising on Potter’s cheeks.

“Oh, something tells me I hit a weak spot there. Almost like hitting a vein, huh Potter? Or haven’t you got that deep yet?” Draco had let slip what he knew. He didn’t care. Potter didn’t deserve his discretion.

The colour that had been caused by the Gryffindor’s anger rapidly drained from his cheeks. Draco smirked but this only seemed to anger the dark-haired boy again. Potter snarled and, putting both hands on Draco’s shoulders, shoved the blond roughly against the wall.

“You don’t fucking know me, Malfoy.” Potter spat at the Slytherin who was now pinned tightly against the stone. 

“I beg to differ Potter, I know you better than you think.” Draco replied, seemingly unfazed by their positioning.

“Shut the fuck up, Malfoy.” Potter near shouted as he pressed Draco harder into the wall.

“I know it has been months since that _mutt_ died,” Draco said in a low voice, “but there is no need to release your…” he trailed off, eyes flicking suggestively downwards between their pressed-together bodies, “ _tension_ on me.” He smirked as Potter’s grip loosened.

Draco could almost see the inner monologue that Potter was having- Does he know? How could he know?

“Although,” Draco went on, his voice dropping to an even lower, arguably seductive tone as he leant his face into Potter’s, “you do have other… pursuits to release tension.” He brought a hand up and ran it along Potter’s forearm just before the Gryffindor’s arms dropped and he took a few steps backwards.

Draco stayed casually leaning against the wall as Potter continued walking backwards. He bumped into a table and turned round to scoop up his notebook, cigarettes and lighter.

The Gryffindor looked back round at Draco who hadn’t moved from where he was nonchalantly inspecting his nails. Potter made his way to door slowly but his pace quickened as he neared it.

“Leaving so soon?” Draco said with a smirk as Potter swung open the door and practically ran off down the corridor.

Draco pushed himself from the wall and made his way slowly to the doorway. He smirked once again as he closed the dark wooden door behind him and sauntered slowly down the corridor.

\- - -

**To Be Continued…?**   
_A/N: Once again on behalf of CS and myself I would like to thank Leila and Sansa for their continued reviews and thank you to everyone who has crawled out of the woodwork to give us their feedback- we love and appreciate it all! I was so excited about this chapter that it is in fact eleven minutes past five (U.K time) that I finished writing so now we all know the benefits of insomnia! Hopefully you will all see an update in a few days._  
Take care sweethearts,  
Aurora Enkeli Medeis. 

\- - -


	15. Chapter XV

  
Author's notes: "You're beyond now- redemption, and no one's going to catch you when you fall." Harry’s back at Hogwarts. His allegiances are wavering. It’s only a matter of time… [Slash, self-harm, eating disorders, drug use…]  


* * *

** Beyond Redemption **   
_By Sisters of Darkness_

\- - -

For this Chapter:

**Rating(s)** : NC-17.  
 **Pairing(s)** : Mentions of Harry Potter/ Sirius Black.  
 **Warning(s)** : Mentions of Self-Harm.

\- - -

**Chapter XV**   
_By CS WhiteWolf_

“ **H** e showed you his arms.” 

It wasn’t so much a question so much as a statement mused Severus as he gracefully extracted himself from the fireplace, dusting his robes a little, and deigning to respond. 

There was a cup of tea already sitting waiting for him upon the coffee table. Taking that as an invite, Severus moved over to the couch and sat himself down. Lifting the mug to his nose he took a slight sniff of it, taking a moment to savour the freshly prepared smell before sipping at the dark liquid. 

“Severus?” The dark-haired man tilted his head in Remus’ direction, indicating to the werewolf that he was listening. 

“How bad was it?” Severus paused, lingering longer than was necessary when placing his mug back upon the table, taking a moment to smooth at his robes before turning to face the Defence Professor. 

“It was pretty bad.” He replied. Remus looked pointedly at him, causing Severus to sigh almost inaudibly, brushing some of his hair away from his face. 

“It was the worse case of self mutilation I’ve yet come across.” He met Remus’ gaze. “I’ve never seen anything quite so severe. It was- disconcerting, having to witness it in reality as opposed to memories.”

“You wanted to see it.” Remus said faintly.

“Yes, I did.” The Slytherin responded. 

They were silent for a moment, wordlessly sipping at their drinks.

“It was a big step for him, Severus.” Began the werewolf.

“I know.”

“I hope you understand the implications of that, Severus.” Remus’ gaze was intense as he stared at Severus. 

The Potions Master looked at him, meeting the almost feral glint in the werewolf’s eyes. 

“I do, Remus.” He answered softly, and with all sincerity. He wasn’t blind to the implications behind the werewolf’s words, and even had he not already he would have agreed regardless. The protectiveness of a wolf over his cub was never to be taken as anything other than completely serious. 

And even if things didn’t work out with converting the boy, Severus knew he’d be hard pressed to tell Dumbledore anything concerning his recent discovers of Harry Potter. Lupin simply would not let such damning information go to light without a fight- and Severus wasn’t so sure he liked the odds of him coming out tops were he to go one on one with the werewolf.

Remus nodded his head, his gaze softened minutely as he moved closer to Severus, curling up against the other man’s side and drawing his legs up beside him. Severus automatically wrapped an arm about the werewolf, hugging him close. 

“I wouldn’t worry too much, Severus. I know you won’t betray him.” 

Severus didn’t reply, lest he commit himself one way or the other. He barely noticed as he took Remus’ hand in his own and began to trace random patterns upon the pale and slightly scarred skin. Remus smile faintly against him. 

“He’s worried you won’t stick to your promise,” Remus spoke after another long moment of silence. 

“Hmm?” Severus stopped his movements.

“Harry. He’s afraid you’ll tell Dumbledore now that you know for definite. He was in quite the state when he floo’d up last night.”

Severus snorted, “I was careful not to upset him terribly.” 

“Oh I don’t think he was upset, just a little confused. You know he’s never seen you as being anything other than out to get him. This sudden change in you is confusing to him.”

“Would he prefer I went back to being my _usual_ self?”

“Hardly, Severus.”

“I find he’s not as intolerable as I first though, especially when he’s not trying to go against everything I say. What did you tell him anyway?”

“I told him that perhaps you were beginning to understand. He told me you said something along the same lines.” 

Severus nodded. Remus shifted, pulling his hand away from Severus’ as he moved to look into the Potion Master’s eyes, laying his hand against the firm chest. 

“You really do seem to be making an effort with him, Severus.”

The Slytherin Head of House frowned a little, starting slightly when Remus touched his cheek. He watched a cheeky smile light up the gold-flecked brown eyes as Remus leaned in to place a chaste kiss against the other man’s lips before pulling away. 

“He would be beneficial to our side.”

Remus smirked at him. “That’s not an answer, Severus. That’s a benefit.”

“I do not know the question.”

“Oh, that you do, Severus, that you do,”

“Lupin, I-”

Remus pressed his fingers to Severus’ lips. “Why, Severus?” 

Severus turned his face away, knowing Remus expected an adequate response but unsure of an answer that would satisfy the man. The truth of the matter was that no one knew Severus’ true reasons for wanting the boy recruited, not even Severus himself most of the time. 

The fact that Harry was an uncommonly powerful wizard was of course a major player when answering the ‘why’, and despite the fact that the dark side had yet to discover the complete details of the prophecy concerning Harry and Voldemort, the Gryffindor could only be a valuable asset to their cause. 

But there was the matter of that unanswered question. The one Remus knew he harboured but had never admitted aloud. How was it that Remus Lupin could be so perceptive as to see that there was another reason as to why Severus wanted the boy to change sides? He could barely answer such a question to himself never mind Remus Lupin. 

“We’ve had this conversation before, Lupin.” Severus finally said, raising his hand to rub his eyes. 

“You’ve changed since then.” Remus pressed, reaching up to pull Severus’ hand away.

“I said there was potential,” The Slytherin ground out, tugging his hand away.

“For you or for him?” Remus asked tensely. 

“For both of us, for all of us.” He rubbed at his eyes away, sighing gratefully when the werewolf made no move to pull his hand away. 

“It’s not that easy, Remus.”

“Exactly.” 

Severus looked at him incredulously, “Exactly what?”

“Exactly why I want to know what has made you change so drastically, it’s barely been a month, Severus, and not only have you managed to gain his trust, but you’ve decided not to speak with Dumbledore should he not be converted.”

Severus jerked. “I said nothing of the sort,”

“You didn’t have to, Severus. I’ve known you long enough, perhaps not as the Inner Circle does, but still enough so as to be able to read you.”

Severus tried to pull away but Remus held fast, refusing to let the matter drop so easily. They glared at each other. 

“If you’d seen half the things I have when delving into his mind, you’d change your opinion of him as well.”

Remus frowned. “It never affected you last year when you were raping his mind over and over again!” the werewolf snapped. 

Severus looked pained, but the expression was fleeting and left the werewolf wondering if he’d seen it at all.

“I am a Death Eater, in case that has escaped your mind, Lupin! If this doesn’t work out I am under obligation to help kill him. Do you know what that means?”

“Of course I know what that means! Don’t try to misdirect me, Severus. Why do _you_ want him converted? This whole endeavour is taking place on your suggestion.”

Severus tugged at his hair in frustration, “You never wanted to know all this before, Lupin. Why now all of a sudden?”

It was Remus who looked away this time, turning his gaze to his hands, which were currently clenched in his lap, nails digging into flesh leaving little crescent moon indentations. 

Fingers under his chin forced his gaze back to Severus’. 

Remus sighed, “I don’t know how to help him, Severus. I need to know if you can, if you will. If there is some other reason behind all this- if maybe you see something you can relate to, that you can and want to help with?”

“Remus…?” Severus frowned at seeing the almost vulnerable look on the werewolf’s face. 

“Can you help him, Severus?” 

The question hung between them, pregnant and heavy in the air about them. Severus’ felt his heart thudding in his chest, his breathing catching in chest at the completely open and exposed expression Remus appealed to him with. 

“Remus,”

“Please, Severus, if I ask anything of you, this is it.”

Severus nodded his head seemingly unconsciously, opening his mouth to speak, his voice thick with emotion as he uttered only one word. 

“Yes.”

Remus’ breath hitched, “Yes?”

“Yes. I will try, Remus.”

Remus smiled sadly at him, tugging Severus’ head down for a lingering kiss.

“Thank you.” 

Severus kissed the werewolf again. Anything to keep his mind from processing all that he had just agreed to. To stop himself from having to think of all the pros and cons such a decision had just opened up to him. To stop from wondering what such a promise would lead to should Harry not be converted. 

Remus let Severus control the kiss. Knowing the other man needed the distraction and only too happy to comply as the Slytherin devoured his mouth in bruising, dominating kisses. He moaned into Severus’ mouth as their tongues met, battling and sliding together. 

They pushed all thoughts from their minds, focusing all their intent on the kisses they shared. So intent in each other were they in fact that neither heard the knock upon Remus’ door, nor noticed when said door opened and someone stepped into the room. 

It was only the calling of Remus’ name that brought both men out of their absorption with each other, the cursed exclamation of shock that followed however was what finally pulled the two men apart. 

Remus turned his head towards the door, his eyes widening as he saw none other than the subject of their previous conversation standing stock-still in the doorway, his face pale and eyes glued on Severus. Remus extracted himself from the Slytherin’s slackened embrace, looking apprehensively between Harry and Severus even as he moved over to the boy. 

“Harry?” Remus called to him, jerking the boy’s attention toward him. 

Harry couldn’t seem to process what it was he was seeing. Snape and Remus? Together? It didn’t seem possible, believable. He looked between the two men in confusion. He’d just seen them kissing, though perhaps ‘making-out’ would be a term better suited to what he had witnessed. 

“Harry, are you okay?”

He turned his attention back to Remus with a frown. Okay? No, he wasn’t okay. He’d just come from the Astronomy Tower where he’d had a confrontation with Malfoy of all people- Malfoy who knew not only about his cutting but also about Sirius being his lover. He’d been upset at that, needing the comfort Remus could provide him because no one was supposed to know about either of those things! No one except Remus… and Snape…

He felt any lingering fear and worry fade from his mind to be replaced by burning anger and betrayal as he turned his eyes to meet the obsidian orbs of his Potions Professor. Only one person could have told Malfoy about either of those things, only one person hated him enough to want him humiliated by the so called Prince of Slytherin. 

He didn’t realise he’d drawn his wand at Snape until Remus had it snatched out of his hand, grabbing him by the shoulders and admonishing him, trying to turn Harry’s attention towards him. But Harry’s concentration was focussed solely on the Head of Slytherin. He wrenched himself from Remus’ hands.

“How did he find out? How the hell did Malfoy find out?” he shouted at the Potions Master.

Snape frowned and Harry felt even more incensed. 

“Mr Potter, I have no idea as to what you are referring to.”

Harry glared at the man. “How the hell did Malfoy find out about me and Sirius? About my cutting? No one else knew! No one but you and Remus! You told him didn’t you?” 

Severus paled at the words, feeling a shiver steel up his spine as Remus looked at him, the angry glint in his eyes enough to set his heart quivering in fear. 

“Severus?” Remus’ voice was barely above a whisper, “Tell me you didn’t inform Draco Malfoy of either of these things?” 

“Lupin- he,” he glanced at Harry, unsure how to tell the werewolf that as a member of the Inner Circle, Draco was of course privy to such information. Even Voldemort was aware of the relationship Harry and his godfather shared as well as the current mental state of the Boy Who Lived. 

“He was never supposed to say anything,” he shook his head, his own anger building but held in check. 

“I trusted you, you bastard!” Harry cried out, “You said you understood!”

Severus could see the boy’s eyes brimming with tears of resentment and hurt.

“Mr Potter- Harry, I do understand-” 

“No, you don’t! You obviously don’t understand anything or else you wouldn’t have told him! You know what Malfoy and me are like. What did you think this was? Some big joke? That maybe it would be funny to tell him? To spread it-” the boy gasped for breath, “To spread it over the school?” 

Remus pulled Harry towards him, tugging him into his arms and a tight embrace, giving the boy the comfort he obviously needed. Levelling a glare over at Severus, Remus all but growled for the man to leave. 

“This isn’t a joke, Harry. I will speak with Mr Malfoy, he should never have…” Severus began speaking but a growl from Remus stopped him. He could hear Harry’s muffled sobbing into the werewolf’s robes and sent a pleading look to Remus, imploring him to understand. 

Remus nodded at him, “I’m telling him everything.” He said. 

Severus looked intensely at him before he too gave a nod of his head. “I shall have words with Draco.” 

He moved over to the fireplace, throwing the powder into the fire and climbing in, he paused only momentarily to watch as Remus moved Harry over to the couch before he called out his destination.

\- - -

**To Be Continued…?**   
_A/N: Once again Aurora and myself would like to thank everyone who has reviewed! It’s fantastic checking our inbox after an update and seeing so many nice reviews! We’ve also notice that the number of reads ‘Beyond Redemption’ receives each update has rocketed- which is a pleasant surprise, and obviously means we have more readers! Yeah!_  
So we implore all you new converts to leave us a review- or two- as to your thoughts on BR, we love hearing from all you guys! Another incentive to get you to review is if you want another update before next Tuesday? Aurora’s already writing Chapter 16 and it looks like you could have an update by Thursday… up to you guys though!   
Peace,  
Sister of Darkness,  
CS WhiteWolf 

_P.S. Sisters of Darkness have added a rather humorous alternate ending to Chapter 12 at our group. To read it simply go to http://groups.yahoo.com/group/Sisters_of_Darkness - Enjoy!_

_P.P.S. Check out Chapter 7, we've added a little something for your viewing pleasure, let us know if you'd like to see it repeated in other chapters!_

\- - -


	16. Chapter XVI

  
Author's notes: "You're beyond now- redemption, and no one's going to catch you when you fall." Harry’s back at Hogwarts. His allegiances are wavering. It’s only a matter of time… [Slash, self-harm, eating disorders, drug use…]  


* * *

** Beyond Redemption **   
_By Sisters of Darkness_

\- - -

For this Chapter:

**Rating(s)** : R/NC-17.  
 **Pairing(s)** : Mentions of Harry Potter/ Sirius Black; hints of Draco Malfoy/Severus Snape.  
 **Warning(s)** : Mentions of Self-Harm; Eating Disorders.

\- - -

**Chapter XVI**   
_By Aurora Enkeli Medeis_

**S** winging a leg over the bench on the left side of the Slytherin table, Draco sat himself down between Goyle and Pansy. He picked up the glass of ice-cold pumpkin juice that had already been filled pending the blonde’s arrival. Draco drank it in slow sips, eyes drifting across the Great Hall to the Gryffindor table. Before he could wonder where Potter had gotten to he caught the entrance of the trio out the corner of his eye.

As always Potter was a few steps behind Weasley and Granger. The dark haired boy looked worse than Draco had seen him. From the bruise like circles beneath red looking eyes it was obvious that the boy had slept no more than an hour the previous night. Draco smirked to himself as he watched the trio sit down at the Gryffindor table. 

Potter kept his head lowered, hands resting on the table in front of him. Standing by what had become the normal tradition, Granger spread butter on a slice of toast before sitting it in front of Potter. What was unusual was that Potter simply continued to stare blankly ahead, picking at the grain in the wood of the table with his nails.

Draco tried not to smirk any wider as he surveyed the Gryffindor’s actions. The other boy didn’t appear to be aware of anything or anyone around him. Potter, Draco thought, had never looked more like a corpse than he did at that moment and he knew that it was because of him. 

Now Draco wasn’t ignorant, far from it, he knew that most people, even Slytherins, would feel even the tiniest spark of guilt at causing such emotional pain in someone. Draco simply felt triumphant. This, however, made him wonder if the fates would find another way for him to pay seeing as he lacked the capability to feel bad for his actions.

“Mr Malfoy,” came a deep, angry voice from behind him, “my office, _now_.”

As Draco turned to watch Severus sweep from the hall he felt sure that _this_ would be what fate had in mind for him. He stood up from the table, looking at his housemates who were eyeing him warily, wondering what the Potions Master’s favourite little snake could have done to anger him so.

Draco left the hall, feeling several pairs of Slytherin eyes on him. He crossed the Entrance Hall and descended the staircase to the dungeons. A few minutes of winding, dark corridors later he reached the door to Severus’ classroom. He swung it open and banged it shut behind him.

The dark wood door at the side of the room that lead to Severus’ office was slightly ajar and Draco made his way towards it. He pushed it open and sauntered inside. Severus was sitting on the black leather chair behind his desk, arms folded as he watched Draco come into the room.

“Close the door.” Severus stated plainly. Any normal person would have gulped and fled for their life if Severus had spoken to them in that tone. Draco simply turned around and swung the door closed, causing another bang of wood against wood.

Draco looked round from the door to see Severus standing up from the desk and coming towards him. Draco stood still, not even flinching when Severus stood over him at full height, leaving little room between the blond and the door.

“How could you have been so foolish?” Severus asked, his voice low and dangerous. Draco slipped around the Potions Master’s side and walked to the chair in front of Severus’ desk.

“I have no idea what you are talking about.” He replied nonchalantly as he dropped himself into the chair.

“You know _exactly_ what I’m speaking about, Mr Malfoy.” Severus said, causing Draco to roll his eyes unbeknownst to the Potions Master.

“Perhaps I could refresh your memory?” Severus asked as he swept back over to the chair behind his desk. “I am referring,” he began, “to an incident between yourself and Mr Potter last night.”

“Oh that.” Draco replied simply, picking at an uneven fingernail.

“Yes, _that_.” Was all Severus said as Draco finally looked up to meet his Head of House’s obsidian stare. He had to admit that he had probably never seen Severus look quite this angry.

“Do you have any idea the jeopardy you have put our plan in?” Severus asked. Draco’s eyes narrowed.

“ _Your_ plan, Severus, not mine. Never once have I said that I agreed with this ridiculous decision to bring Potter into the Inner Circle!” The blond spat back. Severus leant forward a little, resting his arms on the desk and pressing his fingers together as he contemplated his next words.

“Perhaps but little more than a month ago you blatantly sat there and told me you would at least _try_ to aid us in this endeavour.” Draco also leant forward at the Potion Master’s statement, placing his hands flat on the desk.

“I _did_ try but being civil to that… that half-blood Gryffindor piece of filth! It was about as easy as deflecting a bludger with a twig.” Draco declared, causing Severus’ eyes to narrow.

“Do not even attempt to pretend that his has anything to do with Potter’s blood status. This is about _you_ being too insolent and petty to even make an attempt to get over this schoolyard rivalry. In the name of Salazar Draco, it has been six years. Surely even you could have grown up in that amount of time?”

Finishing his tirade, Severus sat back in his chair, eyeing Draco critically. The blond seemed momentarily silenced by Severus’ words and he dropped his eyes from the Potion Master’s gaze until he was finally ready to retort.

“Maybe you are right. It isn’t about his blood status but neither is it the pathetic ‘schoolyard rivalry’ that you seem so intent in making it out to be. That was what it started as yes, but now… now it is simply a case of hatred. I hate Potter- he hates me. It has been and always will be that way.”

Draco noticed the way Severus’ expression lost a fraction of its severity at the blonde’s words, it took a moment but eventually he realised what the Head of Slytherin must be thinking of.

“Could you have done what I have been asked when you were my age? Only with Potter’s father?” Draco asked, taking some delight in the way that Severus’ expression tightened, a sour look passing over his face, as he sat there unable and unwilling to answer. 

“You couldn’t and you know it. At least I’ve had reasons to hate Potter, all _you_ did was transfer a hate of a father onto his son.”

Severus held Draco’s critical silver stare, knowing that the blond was right to an extent.

“And that would be one of many things you and Potter share.” Severus replied finally. Draco looked momentarily flummoxed at the seemingly sudden change of subject. At Draco’s confused look Severus continued, “You have had to deal with people hating you and judging you because your father is a known Death Eater.”

Draco considered Severus’ point for a moment.

“That doesn’t detach from the fact that you have unnecessarily hated Potter since he stepped foot inside Hogwarts.” Draco said, causing the Potions Master to give a brief shake of his head.

“I do not hate Potter- Harry,” Severus replied. Draco snorted, causing Severus to narrow his eyes again.

“I’ve seen the way you have treated him… and since when was he ‘Harry’ to you?” Draco asked.

“Since I made the distinction between him and his father.” Severus replied simply. This statement left Draco silent- if Severus _had_ made the distinction then perhaps, the blond thought, he doesn’t hate him.

“There are many similarities between both of you,” Said Severus, returning to his earlier words. Draco frowned as he looked back at Severus.

“Such as?” Draco asked challengingly.

“The self-harm, the eating disorder and you both use muggle drugs habitually,” Severus listed, “Surely you must have seen these.”

Draco had noticed of course but wasn’t about to let Severus know that.

“Those are only three, Severus, there are countless sixteen year olds who would fit that description.” He replied. Severus audibly sighed at the blonde’s stubbornness.

“Yes, but we are not talking about them, we are talking about you and Harry.” Draco visibly screwed his face up at Severus’ use of Potter’s first name. “Neither of you have anyone your own age with whom you can share these issues… Harry in fact has no one.” Severus’ added as an afterthought. 

Draco tensed in his seat, trying desperately not to show it as he replied.

“Poor little Potter, he alienated _himself_ from his friends so I don’t see why _I_ should care.” He spat, folding his arms across his chest and sitting back heavily in his chair.

“Mr Malfoy you are acting like a petulant brat,” Severus said as he rose from his chair, stalking around the desk to where Draco sat, “I suggest you do something about this hatred and rivalry lest I be forced to take this matter to the Dark Lord.”

Draco could do nothing to suppress the paling of his cheeks and the way his back stiffened at Severus’ threat.

Perfect Potter just _had_ to go running and tell about what had happened. That begged the question in Draco’s mind as to whom Potter had run to. He honestly couldn’t picture the Gryffindor running down to the dungeons and falling, weeping into Severus’ arms no matter how their relationship had progressed. The only other person Draco thought it could have been was Professor Lupin, who would have in turn told Severus.

Potter couldn’t even handle his problems himself. Draco would never run to anyone, he wasn’t even sure anyone else knew the extent of his problems. Did they care? No one seemed eager to save Draco from an early death. Night after night he would hide himself away with his drugs but no one seemed to bat an eye. Then again he wasn’t Potter, everybody’s favourite Golden Boy. He must be the only one worth rescuing.

He would get Potter. He wouldn’t allow the Gryffindor to work his way into the Inner Circle and the hearts of those who belonged there. Potter wouldn’t take away the only people Draco cared about.

Draco was startled from his bitter thought process by Severus walking past him, placing a vial in front of him as he sat down across from the blond.

“Very well,” Draco finally said, trying to keep the bitterness from seeping into his voice, “I will give it a proper try this time.”

He stood up and picked the vial from the desk. Severus nodded to him.

“Make sure that you do this time.” Draco nodded back as he opened the door and left the office. He slammed the door behind him and stalked across the classroom. He opened the classroom door and slammed it as well.

Before turning to make his way back to the Slytherin common room, Draco hurled the vial at the wall, taking pleasure in the way it smashed and the glass tinkled to the ground as beads of the potion rolled down the stonewall.

Potter would not take anything away from him.

\- - -

**To Be Continued…?**   
_A/N: Thank you once again for the reviews from the last chapter sweethearts. To Leila: you can imagine how much I wanted to use your idea of a whip lashing but sadly we felt it wasn’t the place for it! I hope you all like this chapter as I have had some serious issues with it so reviews will be greatly appreciated._  
Kisses,  
Aurora. 

\- - -


	17. Chapter XVII

  
Author's notes: "You're beyond now- redemption, and no one's going to catch you when you fall." Harry’s back at Hogwarts. His allegiances are wavering. It’s only a matter of time… [Slash, self-harm, eating disorders, drug use…]  


* * *

** Beyond Redemption **   
_By Sisters of Darkness_

\- - -

For this Chapter:

**Rating(s)** : R/NC-17.  
 **Pairing(s)** : Mentions of Harry Potter/Sirius Black; Remus Lupin/Severus Snape.  
 **Warning(s)** : None.

\- - -

**Chapter XVII**   
_By CS WhiteWolf_

**H** arry rubbed at his eyes, trying not to yawn too openly as Hermione babbled on about something or other. He was no doubt supposed to be avidly listening to her, but Harry couldn’t seem to muster the energy to even pretend. Besides with Ron sitting on the bushy-haired girl’s other side, the redhead was doing enough avid listening for the two of them.

He stabbed at the food on his plate; cutting and mashing it until it resembled nothing like the healthy nutritious meal it once was. His stomach twisted itself into knots as he checked his wristwatch. It was nearly time to be leaving. After last nights rather impromptu discovery of Remus and Snape being… well he wasn’t too sure what they were to each other, but the words ‘close’ and ‘intimate’ definitely sprang to mind when remembering the compromising position he’d found his professors in- after that however, Remus had thought it best if Harry came to see him the following evening- tonight, to ‘explain’ things to him.

Harry didn’t know if he wanted things explained to him at all. It bothered him- seeing his two professors being like that with each other had made his chest constrict painfully. At the time he’d put it down to being upset, and angry with Snape for having told Malfoy things the Slytherin should never have known. That was why he’d drawn his wand, to curse Snape for what he’d done to him. 

Only thinking back, recalling the picture of the two men in each others arms- kissing each other, doing something he’d never imagined them doing, not with each other- well, it was seeing that, knowing that they were together like that, that had made his blood boil and caused him to draw his wand. The urge to hurt Snape for being with Remus had almost resulted with him hexing the man. If Remus hadn’t taken his wand from him, he was sure he would have, uncaring of who and what the man was, because in his mind a small part of him cried out that Remus was his, and only his. 

A nudge to the ribs had him turning his attention back to the present and one annoyed looking Hermione Granger. He blinked slowly at her indignant expression. 

“Have you been listening to anything I’ve said?” 

“Sorry, Hermione, I’m just really tired, you know?”

Her eyes softened a little, even as the suspicion remained. Harry dropped his eyes so she wouldn’t see the defiance shining in his own gaze. He heard her sigh but ignored her, thankful when Ron pulled her into conversation. He checked his watch again, rubbing at his eyes before turning his gaze up towards the staff table just as Snape stood from his seat- beside Remus- and headed towards the Slytherin table looking quite fearsome. 

He watched as he snapped something at Malfoy before exiting the hall, the blond Slytherin following soon after. Frowning, Harry looked up at the head table again in time to catch Remus’ gaze flickering towards him. The Defence professor gave a small nod before standing himself and exiting the hall through the side door. 

Harry rubbed at his face before standing and making his way out the hall, choosing to ignore Hermione’s piqued inquiry as to where he was going. He didn’t mean to be so, unfriendly, towards his friends, but sometimes it was the only thing that managed to keep him sane when in their presence. They pity and sympathy, the suspicious and calculating looks- they all served only to keep him tense and uptight when in their presence as they tried to deduct just what was ‘wrong’ with him. 

Harry slowly made his way down the corridor that would lead him to Remus’ rooms. He felt his heartbeat picking up at the thought of their upcoming discussion. Harry didn’t really want to discuss anything- especially not if it had to do with Snape and Remus being together, or anything of the likes. 

He hoped that this discussion would definitely not take place with Snape. He couldn’t think of anything worse than having the two of them trying to make him ‘understand’ things. A shiver stole up his spine. No, Remus knew better than that- he wouldn’t dare, not after last night, not with the risk of Harry still being incensed enough with the Potions Master to try and curse him. 

Reaching the unmarked door, Harry paused, hesitant to raise his fist and knock against the hard wood and announce his presence. Was he supposed to wait outside until Remus answered the door for him, or just enter as Remus had told him he could? After last night though, he didn’t want to walk into any more surprises… but then, Remus was expecting him, so he surely wouldn’t be involved in anything he wouldn’t want Harry to see, would he? 

He ran a hand through his hair, mussing it slightly before gathering his courage and chapping on the door. No one answered for a long moment; Harry touched the doorknob, uncertain if he should just let himself in, maybe Remus was expecting him to do just that. Harry frowned then dropped his hand. No, if Remus wanted this discussion he could very well open the door himself, because he most definitely did not to take that chance at seeing anything else he shouldn’t. 

He knocked on the door once more, deciding to wait only a few more minutes before leaving. He heard someone moving inside the rooms and couldn’t decide whether he felt happy or not about that. The door opened not a moment later, showing the brown-haired defence professor. 

“Harry,” the man frowned slightly even as he stepped back from the door, allowing for Harry to enter his rooms. “You needn’t have waited.”

Harry looked at him, a slightly incredulous expression on his face. Remus gave a sheepish smile. 

“I was expecting you, Harry.” He added. 

“I know, but I…” he drifted off not sure how to phrase his worries. Remus placed a hand on his shoulder, squeezing slightly. 

“I understand, cub, but please don’t feel that you are not welcomed in my rooms.” 

Harry just nodded, his eyes involuntarily drawn towards the end of the couch where he’d found his professors making out. Remus cleared his throat, drawing his attention once again. 

“Sorry? What were you saying?” 

Remus’ eyes sparkled slightly at the light blush rising on the boy’s cheeks. “I asked if you’d like something to drink? Tea? Pumpkin juice?” 

“Um… tea’s fine, thanks.” He said. He wasn’t really thirsty, but he figured that even if he didn’t drink it, he’d at least have something to do with his hands whilst Remus attempted to explain to him just what was going on. 

“Tea it is then, why don’t you go take a seat while I make us some?” 

Harry shot an apprehensive look at the couch, starting slightly when he heard the werewolf chuckling. 

“I promise you Harry that the couch is clean.” Harry flushed a bright red at the very thought of it being anything other, as he made his way over to the worn seat and timidly sat down somewhere in the middle of it. He fidgeted a little, twisting his hands in his robes until Remus returned with two cups of hot tea. 

“Do you want anything to eat?” Harry shook his head, taking a gulp of the scalding his tea and trying not to wince as he felt it burn the roof of his mouth. 

“Silly, cub,” Remus tutted, taking Harry’s mug and placing in on the coffee table as he removed his wand and cast a quick healing charm inside Harry’s mouth. “Don’t worry so much, Harry. Do you even know why I wanted to talk with you tonight?”

Harry dipped his head, “You… and Snape?” 

Remus waited until the dark-haired boy looked up and met his gaze, “Amongst other things,” he agreed. 

“Other things?” Harry asked, his curiosity piqued. 

Remus nodded. “Some things which I believe you should be aware of, even if certain others don’t think you’re ready to know.”

Harry frowned, wondering if this was to turn into another one of those end-of-year Dumbledore revelations. Like when he’d explain to him something that he hadn’t know before and could have done with knowing earlier. 

Remus touched at his arm gently, drawing him back to the present. 

“Don’t worry, cub, you have a choice in everything- remember that. Whatever I tell you tonight, you have the choice in how you wish to proceed.” 

“You’re sounding very ominous, Moony.” 

The werewolf gave him a toothy smile. “It is not really that bad, in my opinion anyway. I just- before I say anything, I just want you to know that whatever you decide I will stick by you, okay?”

Harry turned to look at him fully. “This doesn’t sound like it’s going to be anything good,” 

“It’s not _bad_ , per se, if that’s what you’re thinking.” 

“Per se?” 

“Depends on your point of view really,” Remus said dismissively, taking a sip of tea. Harry picked up his own drink. 

“Start talking then,” he said, surprisingly less worried about this ‘neglected’ information that he had been about having Remus discuss his relationship with Snape. 

Remus was silent for a while, staring off into space as he arranged his thoughts and decided how best to proceed. 

“You know Severus is a Death Eater?” 

Harry tensed, his hands clenching at the mention of the Potions Master. He gave a sharp nod. Remus hid his smile by raising his cup to his lips. 

“Do you know what he does?” He enquired. 

“He’s a spy for the Order, supposedly.” 

“Supposedly? You do not believe this to be the case?”

Harry shifted beside him. “Last year I didn’t, I though he was a Death Eater for sure.”

“And this year?”

“This year… well, this year he just seems-,” His eyes hardened, “He seemed so different, I mean until I found out he’d been telling Malfoy everything he was being so… so,” he trailed off unsure as to how to complete that sentence. The word ‘nice’ hovered on the tip of his tongue but he swallowed it back, thinking it too wrong an adjective to describe the snarky professor as. 

“So, un-Snapeish?” Remus asked.

Harry quirked his lips in a wry smile, “Ya, something like that. He wasn’t being himself, or maybe he was, I don’t know. It’s confusing to be around him.” He pursed his lips a little. “I guess he might have been trying to- well I really don’t know. But whatever he was trying it was obviously just to get me to trust him so he and Malfoy could have a right laugh over ‘Poor Potter’.” 

“Do you really think that?” 

Harry stared at him, wondering what kind of question that was supposed to be. “Yes, I do.” He said slowly, frowning, “He told Malfoy about me, Remus. He told him about Sirius, about my- my cutting.” It felt weird to be talking to anyone but Sirius so openly about his self-harm.

Remus wetted his lips, “There is a reason he told Mr Malfoy, Harry. And it wasn’t to humiliate to.” 

Harry’s frown turned to a glare, “How can you say that? After what he said last night?” he crossed his arms, glowering at the fireplace. “Is this because you’re shagging him- Snape? Is that why you’re trying to stick up for him? Why you’re making his excuses?” 

“Harry-, I’m not making his excuses, if you let me explain you’ll see why he in a way had to tell the Malfoy boy.” 

Harry snorted slightly, turning his face away. “But you are shagging him?” 

The werewolf sighed, rubbing at his temples. “In a way, I suppose you could simplify it as being such.”

“In a way?” Harry turned to look at him, “You either are or you aren’t, Moony.”

“Do you think it really has anything to do with you?” 

The Gryffindor gaped at him momentarily before snapping his mouth shut. “No, I don’t suppose it does. Why should I care if the only person I care about is sleeping with someone who has a personal vendetta against me? Forgive me, _Professor Lupin_ , whatever was I thinking.” 

He launched to his feet, storming over towards the door- intent on leaving. His eyes itched, prickling slightly with tears unshed. His hand was just twisting the doorknob when Remus called out to him, telling him to stop. The voice was closer than he’d expected, causing him to spin around. 

Remus was but a few inches away from him; Harry hadn’t even heard the werewolf move. He stepped backwards automatically, his back coming into contact with the door. 

“I didn’t mean it like that, Harry.” Remus said, cocking his head slightly as he took in the telltale shining of the boy’s eyes. “I apologise.” 

Harry dropped his eyes to the ground. Neither moving nor speaking until Remus cupped his chin, lifting his face until their gazes met. “I’m not really the only person you care about, Harry, am I?” 

The boy nodded as best he could with Remus’ hand still holding his face in place. The werewolf frowned a little. 

“What about Ron, and Hermione?” 

Harry shrugged. “The rest of the Weasleys? You other friends in Gryffindor? Dumbledore?” 

Harry remained impassive to Remus’ questions until he mentioned the headmaster. Wrenching his face free from the older man’s grasp, Harry all but spat out his next words, “Dumbledore is a manipulating old fool! He’s worse than Snape when it comes to abusing someone’s trust!”

Surprisingly Remus said nothing about his outburst, opting only to smile rather evasively before stepping away, giving Harry room to move. “Come sit down again. We have much to discuss now.” 

Harry made no attempt to move. Remus gently reached for his hand, drawing the boy to his side and walking him back towards the couch. “I care about you too, pup.” 

“But not just me.” Harry mumbled as Remus seated them again, keeping his arm about the boy’s shoulders.

“It’s not like that, Harry. I care about you in a way I don’t with Severus.” 

“But I love you, Moony.” 

Remus hugged him tightly, “I love you too, cub, just not like that.” He whispered into Harry’s hair. Harry nuzzled his face into Remus’ neck, shaking his head in denial even as he recognised the words as having been his own at one point.

Harry kissed softly at the warm flesh before him, suckling slightly at it, running his tongue in small, lapping motions. Remus’ arms clenched involuntarily about him as he all but moaned Harry’s name in protest. Harry continued his ministrations, tasting the slightly salted musk of the werewolf’s neck, worshipping it with his tongue until he heard Remus groan softly. He nipped at the reddened flesh, pulling away after placing one last kiss against the tender flesh. 

Remus’ mouth was upon his before Harry had even fully pulled away, eliciting a needy moan from him as his bottom lip was sucked into Remus’ mouth and massaged thoroughly before Remus wrenched his mouth away, breathing hard. 

“You don’t want this, Harry.”

Harry placed a chaste kiss on the man’s lips. “I do, I want this so much.” 

Remus pulled his close again, pressing their foreheads together, “You may want this, Harry, but not from me. Not like this. I won’t leave you, Harry, not ever. Severus isn’t taking your place. I love you like I could never love him, but not like this, Harry, not like this.” 

Harry closed his eyes, forcing his heartbeat to slow and his breathing to even itself out, not daring to open his eyes until he was recovered enough from the needy kiss. He nodded his head, “Thank you.” 

Remus stroked at his face, “You have nothing to thank me for cub,” 

They pulled away slightly, though Remus tugged Harry to his side, holding him close for a moment as they both gathered their thoughts. 

“You- you were talking about Snape earlier, asking about him being a spy for the Order, what were you trying to point out?”

“That he is a spy,” Remus replied, “But he’s not spying _for_ the Order.”

Harry frowned, a puzzled look marring his brow. “Not spying for…?” he asked in confusion before realisation slowly dawned upon him. “Not _for_ the Order, but _on_ the Order?”

Remus watched him carefully, nodding his head in confirmation even as Harry shook his in denial, his face paling. 

“No, Remus, no… he- he can’t be, he just… he can’t be!” He pulled away from the man to stare at him incredulously. 

“It’s true, Harry, but you must understand that-,”

“No! Just, no! Remus what are you trying to say, that Snape’s still a Death Eater? That he’s…” Harry’s eyes widened, “Oh god, Remus- you and Snape, you’re in this together! You’re on his side, aren’t you?”

His eyes flickered to Remus’ left arm, his hand reaching out to touch at the sleeve of his robes; dare that he lift them and see the answer to his unspoken question. Remus’ hand shot out to grab at Harry’s offending hand, holding in a firm and unbreakable grip. 

“What do you expect to see?” Remus all but growled at the dark-haired boy, his gold-flecked eyes flashing from his usual chocolaty brown to a deep amber, Harry caught his breath, making to pull his hand back but Remus’ refused to release it.

“Nothing!” He gasped out, his own eyes wide in panic and not a little fear, “I don’t want to see anything! I’m sorry! I didn’t mean-,”

“Yes,” Remus bit out, “You did, you meant to look, you meant to see- what do you expect to find?” 

“Please, Remus!” Harry moaned in a soft voice, suddenly young and afraid, his eyes pleading with him, holding the look of one who’d had too many he trusted betray him, hurt him. 

Remus softened immediately, gently releasing Harry’s hand before moving to lift the sleeve of his robes. 

“No!” Harry cried out, “I don’t need to know! I- I don’t have to know, Moony.” 

“But you do, cub, you need to know, you have to know, but above all, you want to know.” 

“I didn’t mean to-,” Harry made to cover his face with his hands, but Remus tugged them away, holding them loosely this time with his own, his thumbs rubbing soothing circles. 

“I know, cub. But see now, look and ease your mind.” He released Harry’s hands, lifting the sleeve of his left robe to expose his forearm. 

Silence reigned between them as Harry processed just what it was he were seeing. He let loose a long and shaky breath when the sight finally registered with him, unable to help the tears of relief he felt springing to his eyes. He reached out tentatively to touch at Remus’ arm, his fingers tracing the slightly scarred but relatively unmarred expanse of flesh. Flesh not tainted with the grotesque Dark Mark, symbol of slavery to those who wore it. 

Remus touched at Harry’s face, his fingers wiping away the tears Harry hadn’t even known he was crying.

“Oh cub,” Remus tugged him closer again, cradling the boy’s thin frame in his arms, “Oh Harry-cub. It’s you, I am loyal only to you.”

“But Snape-,” 

Remus shushed him. “Listen now, cub. Try to save your questions till I am finished.” 

Harry nodded his head, resting it against Remus’ chest as the werewolf began carding his fingers through his hair. 

“Severus is still a Death Eater, he is still loyal to the Dark Lord. And so am I in a way,” He felt Harry tense against him, “But though I may support them, I am on your side, Harry. Not on the side of the light, but your side: whatever side you choose I will stand by you,”

“Whatever side I choose?” Harry couldn’t help but interrupt the werewolf, “Remus, I’m on the light side.

“Are you?” Remus asked casually.

Harry looked up at him, bemused, “Well yes,”

“Why?” Remus asked.

Harry frowned, “Because,”

“Because?”

“Because it’s the right side to be on!” Harry said indignantly, “Voldemort killed my parents in case you forgot, and he’s tried to kill me almost every year since I started Hogwarts! It’s because of him that Sirius is dead!”

“I know Harry. I’m not saying he’s a saint; we all know the Dark Lord is anything but. He is feared for a reason, but you must take into consideration that he may well be the lesser of two evils.” 

“The lesser of two? And just who could be worse than Voldemort?”

“Dumbledore.”

“What?” Harry hissed, “You can’t be serious! I may not trust the man anymore but just how is he worse than that snake-faced bastard?” 

“In many ways, Harry, Dumbledore has done things far worse than what the Dark Lord has. You’re anything but a child; I don’t think you’ve ever really had the pleasure of being one, but you understand that this war has been going on since well before you were born?”

Harry nodded, swallowing heavily. 

“Voldemort became what he was because of Dumbledore. He had power unmatched by all except Dumbledore himself. That’s one of the reasons why ‘Tom Riddle’ was sent back to the orphanage he stayed in every year, sent back to people who did and could not understand him. People who would hurt and ridicule him for something he had no power over.”

Harry sat stiffly, listening intently despite the pounding of blood in his ears. 

“Dumbledore sent Tom Riddle back to a place where he was abused in the hopes that when he returned each year to Hogwarts he would see it as his haven, as a home where he would be accepted and loved, where he could have friends. But Riddle was wizened to Dumbledore’s motives. Where the old man sought to use him, Riddle sought his revenge, his hatred building up until it consumed him and turned him into the monster he was.” 

“It’s not Dumbledore’s fault Riddle was abused,” Harry said in a shaky voice. 

“Is it not Dumbledore’s fault you were abused?” Harry’s lip trembled slightly. 

“I’m not like him! I’m nothing like him!” 

“He was once a boy too, Harry, he was once searching for love and acceptance.” 

“What are you trying to say?”

“Nothing, Harry, I am just telling you a story.” 

“Remus I-,” The werewolf put a finger to his lips, silencing him. 

“The Dark Lord has done many cruel and wicked things- he’s killed people, tortured many of them first, he’s attempted to kill you and your friends and those you once saw as your family. He killed your parents, and yes, because of him Sirius is dead. But Dumbledore is just as bad; he’s killed just as many people as the Dark Lord has,

He’s the one who ignored intelligence regarding the attack on your parents’ home, even though the reports claimed the Dark Lord knew the location. He’s the one who pushed for Sirius to be sentenced without a trial and later confined him to Grimmauld Place. He made you live with the Dursley’s despite knowing what was happening to you in that house. He’s manipulated and used you from the day you were born Harry, shaping you into a weapon; into the weapon he wants you to be.”

Harry was shivering more obviously by the time Remus finished speaking, his hands were folded in his lap, fingers laced so tightly as to restrict the blood flow. 

“Harry?” Remus called softly, the boy jerked. 

“Then they are both as bad as each other and I shouldn’t fight for either.” 

“You don’t have to do anything you want, Harry.”

“Yes, I do. I don’t have a choice. I am a pawn in this war- I knew that already; you’ve only increased my distrust of Dumbledore. I know I’ve been manipulated my whole life, I was blind to it all till this summer. After Siri- Sirius’ death, I just, I sat down and thought about everything. And I knew, I knew I was being moulded into the perfect pawn for Dumbledore. But I have no choice. It’s either Voldemort or me. The prophecy says so.”

“You know the prophecy?” the shock was evident in the werewolf’s voice.

Harry nodded, “Dumbledore told me it just after Sirius fell through the veil.”

Remus’ eyes narrowed at that comment. “Just after?”

“He sent me from the Ministry to his office via portkey and wouldn’t let me leave until he’d said his piece.”

Remus growled slightly, “And just what did this supposed prophecy say?”

Harry frowned at the man’s phrasing before taking a deep breath, “Well the part I remember best is the bit that goes ‘ _Either must die at the hand of the other, for neither can live while the other survives_ ’,”

Remus’ eyes were still narrowed. “There is something decidedly off about Dumbledore telling you anything like that right after the events at the Ministry.” 

Harry blinked at him but Remus shook his head, “A matter for another time, I daresay.” 

Harry simply nodded his head. “What- what were you trying to say about Voldemort? And Snape? You don’t expect me to join them, do you? To become their pawn in this war as opposed to Dumbledore’s? I could never be a Death Eater, Remus.”

“You wouldn’t be a Death Eater.” Remus said. 

“No? What would I be then? The only thing I can see me as being when Voldemort is concerned is dead. And despite my ability to always find myself in life threatening situations, I do not, in fact, have a death wish.”

“He wants you to join the Inner Circle.” The way Remus spoke suggested that this ‘Inner Circle’ was of some importance. 

“And just what is this Inner Circle, exactly?” 

“It is composed of the Dark Lord’s most trusted and faithful followers, they are seen almost as equals to him,”

Harry snorted, “I hardly fall into that category, Moony,”

“But you have power, and beauty, the rest will follow in time I’ve no doubt.”

Harry flushed at the mention of his looks. “Beauty? What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Those of the Inner Circle are all- _intimately_ \- linked to one another.” 

The boy blanched. “You mean- that they’re… you can’t be serious!”

Remus nodded before hastily adding, “Not that you would be required to become so- close, I suppose you could call it- to them. That would be your choice as well.”

“It sounds to me as though you want me to join him.” 

“I am merely suggesting what was suggested to me.”

“Snape?” Harry bit his cheek to keep from spitting the name. 

“Yes, it was Severus’ idea to begin with. Though I made it clear to him should you not be converted to their way of thinking, I will do everything in my power to keep you alive and safe. Remember, I am on your side.”

Harry rubbed at his temples, wondering if he was about to receive a headache from all the information he’d managed to glean in one night. He ran a hand down his face before giving a rather wide yawn, looking to Remus only when he heard the older wizard chuckling softly.

“I think that’s enough talk for one night, eh pup?” 

The boy looked at him. “You’re asking a lot of me, Remus.”

“I’m not asking anything of you, Harry, except that you think on what I’ve said.”

“He killed my parents and Sirius, I know Dumbledore’s to blame as well, but- I’ve focussed the blame on him for so long, and it is him I should blame. But I blame the headmaster too… this- I need to think about this. All of this.” 

“That’s all you have to do, Harry.” He placed a light kiss upon Harry’s lips before ruffling his hair. “Off with you now, pup, it’s well past curfew and you need your sleep.”

Harry muffled another yawn with his hand as he stood, stretching slightly before making his way over towards the door, everything feeling more than a little surreal at the moment. He was thankful that it was the start of the weekend; at least he’d have a few days to get his head around all this. 

“Remus?” The werewolf looked up from where he was collecting up their discarded drinks. “Who’s a part of this Inner Circle?”

Remus cocked his head, “The IC consists of The Dark Lord, Lucius Malfoy, Severus Snape… and Draco Malfoy.” 

Harry shook his head. “I was afraid you’d say that,” he said easily, “Goodnight, Moony.”

“Night, cub.” 

And then Harry was gone and Remus was left wondering if he’d done the right thing by suggesting the idea of conversion. He doubted very much that the boy would get the sleep he needed this weekend.

\- - -

**To Be Continued…?**   
_A/N: Thanks once again to everyone who has been reading and reviewing! It means a bunch to us!_  
For those of you who’ve joined our Yahoo!Group, another random cookie has been added, this time it’s a rather AU version of this chapter- pointless but amusing that is if you have a similar sense of humour as Aurora and myself!   
Speaking of amusing, Aurora and I would like to broadcast just how far our sadness and madness extends: Recently on a shopping trip into the wonderful Glasgow, we randomly decided to buy Lucius-style pimp canes! Why you ask? Well why not! It was most fun walking around with our canes, the weird looks were well worth it!   
Peace  
Sister of Darkness,  
CS WhiteWolf 

\- - -


	18. Chapter XVIII

  
Author's notes: "You're beyond now- redemption, and no one's going to catch you when you fall." Harry’s back at Hogwarts. His allegiances are wavering. It’s only a matter of time… [Slash, self-harm, eating disorders, drug use…]  


* * *

** Beyond Redemption **   
_By Sisters of Darkness_

\- - -

For this Chapter:

**Rating(s)** : R/NC-17.  
 **Pairing(s)** : Mentions of Harry Potter/Sirius Black; Draco Malfoy/Severus Snape.  
 **Warning(s)** : Adult Language; Violence; Mentions of Eating Disorder/Drug Use.

\- - -

**Chapter XVIII**   
_By Aurora Enkeli Medeis_

**D** raco had always liked the dungeons. There was something so much more satisfying about stalking through the labyrinth of dark corridors than there was about trudging around the halls of the castle towers. Of course, he dealt out significantly fewer punishments while on prefect’s duty in Slytherin territory but it was the comfort of the black stonewalls and flickering torchlight that made up for it.

The blond snorted at his own musings- happiest in darkness, how terribly Slytherin. He felt an itching in the cavity of his nose, rubbing the bridge; Draco screwed his eyes shut and shook the dizziness from his head. Perhaps he had had a little too much before leaving for his patrol but for what he had planned later that evening he may not have had enough.

He came to the door of Severus’ classroom, taking a deep breath in an attempt to disperse the erratic rhythm he could feel building in his lungs and heart. With two loud knocks he swung the classroom door open, slamming it behind him as he strode to the door that lead to Severus’ office. Before he could swing it open as well he heard Severus’ deep, reverberating voice come from inside the supply cupboard.

“Finished your rounds I see.” Severus said as he stepped out of the cupboard. Draco nodded as he hopped up onto a desk: only after checking there was nothing that would stain, rip or in any way damage is robes. The Potions Master had seemingly let the incident in which Draco revealed everything he knew about Potter slide, probably after the promise that he would give civility another go the blond thought.

“You said you wanted to speak to me about something,” Draco said as he splayed his palms on the desk and leaned back casually. Severus folded his arms across his chest as he regarded the blond from a distance. Heavy breathing, slight sheen of sweat on his pale cheeks, slightly dilated pupils- Severus was no fool and after months he knew exactly what the signs of a high drug in take were. 

“I cannot know for sure but it is possible that Potter now knows of the Inner Circle.” Severus said, causing Draco to frown in spite of himself. 

“Who would have told him?” The blond asked.

“Professor Lupin.” Replied Severus. Draco’s frown dropped instantly- he should have known. He was about to reply when the Potions Master continued speaking, “After the… incident between yourself and Harry,” he ignored the face Draco made, “he went straight to Lupin’s quarters and found myself and the professor in a compromising position.”

Draco’s eyes narrowed even though he tried his best to hide the jealousy that bubbled up in the pit of his stomach. He forced himself to speak without sounding too angered.

“So we are assuming that the _werewolf_ has now informed Potter?” Draco didn’t miss the way his Head of House’s eyes narrowed at the derogatory tone in which the blond had referred to Lupin.

“Yes. It has put the plan further into motion. The Dark Lord wishes _nothing_ to get in the way of Harry’s decision.” Severus continued, sweeping across the room to sit himself behind his desk. Draco didn’t need to be a genius to hear the hidden meaning behind Severus’ words.

“Well we will need to see that _nothing_ does.” Draco replied as he jumped down to the floor and made his way to where Severus was sitting rummaging around in his drawer. Severus sat an all to familiar vial on his desk and stood from his chair, frowning as he went to the cupboard on the other side of the room.

“I have things to be getting on with Draco, as would you I imagine,” Severus said as a means to have Draco leave. The blond sneered at the back of Severus’ head, mentally agreeing that yes, he in fact had something very _vital_ to be getting on with.

Draco went to pick up the vial but stopped, pausing thoughtfully. He turned to where Severus was standing with his back to him and made his way over.

“Draco,” Severus began as he spun around to face the young Malfoy. He was quickly silenced as Draco reached a hand up and pulled Severus’ lips down to meet his. 

Draco stood up on his toes as he pressed his mouth harder into his Head of House’s. His tongue swiped over Severus’ bottom lip, teeth nipping and biting as they begged Severus to respond. Quickly recovering from the shock, Severus pushed Draco off. His action wasn’t harsh enough to warrant any harm and he had by no means meant it in the way Draco clearly was taking it.

A myriad of emotions flitted in rapid succession over silver eyes as Draco backed away- incredulity, hurt, betrayal and finally pure, white anger. Severus Snape was not a man to be perturbed by a great many things but a Malfoy at full temper was something that even made him wary. 

Draco’s lips twisted in a look of fury that made his usually alluring, aristocratic face decidedly less attractive- one of the only things that could do something so drastic to the face of a Malfoy. He spun on his heel, storming through the rows of desks.

He spotted the vial of nutritional potion still sitting on Severus desk and as he swept past, Draco swung his right arm out, hitting the vial with the back of his hand. It flew from the wood, narrowly missing the top of Severus’ chair before shattering on the wall. Draco wrenched the door open, several chips of wood splintering from it and the worktop it connected with, and left the room before Severus had barely had time to process the situation

Draco swept along the dark corridors and up the stairs to the Entrance Hall. As he ascended the stairs he collided with two random fourth year Hufflepuffs that were hastily making their way back to their common room. Draco took fifteen points from each of them, taking no care whatsoever to not hit them again as he walked away.

One, two, three staircases later he was at the end of the corridor where he knew Potter would be. He stormed to the end of the hall but stopped just before he flung it open. Reaching inside his robes he pulled a long chain from where it hung beneath his black jumper. A carved snake pendent hung from the end, two small emeralds acting as its eyes.

Draco twisted it and it came free, the head remaining attached to the chain. A small spatula stained with white powder hung from it and the blond dipped it back inside the body off the snake, scooping a small dosage of drugs from inside. He held it to his nose, inhaling deeply before twisting the body back on.

He wiped his nose of any excess powder as he stuffed the chain back under his jumper. It was a new addition to Draco’s belongings, purchased on the off chance that he may not be near his trunk yet find himself in need of a fix. Feeling restocked as he had grown to refer to it, Draco brutally turned the handle and threw the door open. It smashed off the wall and bounced back but by the time it had done so Draco was already inside the room. He turned to make sure the door was properly closed before striding up to where Potter was sitting.

The dark haired boy had looked up at Draco’s entrance, his eyes narrowing in a display of emotion rarely seen on him any more. Quickly, Potter went back to what he was writing and left Draco even more irate.

“So more writing this evening then, Potter,” Draco said in a tauntingly sweet voice, “who is the subject today?”

Naturally, Potter completely ignored him, opting instead to take a long drag of his cigarette and flick some ash out of the window.

“Is it the Weasel and Mudblood? No it wouldn’t be them, you don’t care enough about them anymore to write anything surrounding them.” The way Potter tensed slightly didn’t go unnoticed by Draco.

“Then again there is always the subject of that dead mutt you called a godfather. Yes, that would make a good subject- wallowing in self-pity as if no one else has ever felt any loss. Certainly that would fit the Gryffindor narrow mindedness.”

Potter stopped what he was writing, fingers grasping the quill as he took as large a drag of tobacco as he physically could. He rested his head back on the edge of the alcove, closing his eyes as he exhaled.

“Maybe tonight’s scribblings are about Professors Snape and Lupin? Tell me,” Draco said as he crept closer to a seemingly un-noticing Potter, “how did it feel to discover that you have been _sharing_ the werewolf all this time?”

Potter’s eyes shot open at the exact same moment Draco’s seeker reflexes allowed him to reach out, snatch the book and take several large steps backwards. Potter swung his legs round, balancing precariously close to the open window.

“Malfoy,” he said, voice low and warning, “give me it back.” Draco laughed as if it were the most amusing thing he had ever heard. It was, in fact, more of a gleeful cackle that resounded around the dark room.

“Yeah fucking right, Potter, as if I would do that. No, I think I’ll have a look for myself.” He said as he began flipping through the pages idly.

“Are you expecting to see something about _Severus_?” Harry asked, emphasising the sibilance of the name with a subtle hiss. Draco’s eyes shot up from the page he was about to begin reading- there was only one person whom he had heard say Severus’ name like that and the sudden resemblance between said person and Potter sent a shiver up and down Draco’s spine.

Draco quickly shook off what he was feeling and sneered at Potter.

“Take your precious fucking book,” Draco snapped, “there probably isn’t an intelligent thought in it.” He threw it at Potter and turned on his heel. What he didn’t see was Potter slipping backwards on the ledge as the force of the book hit his hands. The Gryffindor managed to grab the wall and pull himself into the room and off the windowsill before he fell. Draco simply continued to walk to the door, making it perfectly clear that he did not give a shit whether Potter plummeted to his death or not.

Draco was nearly at the door when he was struck squarely in the spine with something decidedly painful. He turned, finding Potter’s book lying open at his feet.

“What the fuck is your problem, Malfoy?” Potter spat as he came to where Draco was standing, “aside from of obvious of course.”

“My problem Potter is that no one in your life loves you so you have to come and steal love from everyone else.” Draco replied as he walked towards Potter.

“What the fuck would you know about love, Malfoy? There’s probably just a black hole in your chest where a heart should be.” Harry said as he and Draco came toe to toe.

“Fuck you Potter, you don’t know a god damned thing about me.” Draco sneered.

“I know enough to know that the only person you care about is yourself.” 

“Shut up, Potter.” Was all Draco managed to say through clenched teeth.

“Hit a nerve have I? Maybe you care for your _daddy_? Did you miss him a lot while he was locked up? Poor little dragon missed his daddy. Well he deserved to be in Azkaban for everything he has done… he still does.”

Draco could have passed comment on how he at least had a father, in fact he could have said anything in reply but he didn’t. Instead, Draco balled his fist and swung it upwards. 

It connected with the side of Potter’s face, giving a sickening crack. Potter staggered backwards a little; bringing his palm up to his face. Draco smirked but the expression quickly fell as Potter’s own fist connected with his cheek. Draco winced, stepping forward and pushing Potter’s shoulders. Potter shoved back and Draco retaliated by landing a punch on the side of Potter’s head.

The Gryffindor lunged at Draco, catching the blond in the ribs with his shoulder and forcing him back against a wall. The back of Draco’s skull smashed into the stone and he tried to shake the stars from behind his eyes as he pulled Potter up by the shoulders of his robes.

Draco buried his knee into Potter’s abdomen causing the dark haired boy to cough and fall backwards, colliding with a desk. Draco stepped from the wall and punched Potter, fist connecting with his jawbone. Potter fell backwards onto the desk and Draco pulled him back up by his hair.

Before he could hit him again, Potter had wrenched Draco’s hand away by pulling sharply at the blonde’s wrists. Draco hissed as he felt several cuts split open. With Draco momentarily distracted by his wrist, Potter punched him the stomach.

The Slytherin doubled over in pain but caught Potter’s own wrist as he pulled away. Draco gripped Potter’s arm, twisting it round Potter’s back and forcing the Gryffindor to turn around. Draco pushed Potter back into the wall face first, the side of his face scraping over the stone. Draco’s hand had slipped beneath Potter’s robes and he could fell the cuts beneath his fingers as they split open. Warm blood seeped over Draco’s hands and Potter winced as his arm was ripped open one self-inflicted wound at a time.

He found the power to push back against Draco, causing the blond to lose his balance and fall backwards. The two of them crashed through one of the desks, pieces of wood cracking and flying everywhere as it broke beneath their weight. Potter landed on Draco but rolled off quickly, lying on his back just beside the blond.

Draco closed his eyes against the pain he was suddenly registering on various parts of his body. The heavy breathing from beside him indicated that Potter was feeling exactly the same as him- bloody, bruised and utterly spent.

Draco turned, eyes opening slowly to look at Potter. The Gryffindor had one arm thrown over his eyes but patches of purple and blue could already be easily seen forming on his cheek. Draco stretched his arm out to his side, making sure it could still function from where it had broken his fall.

His fingertips brushed over the spine of Potter’s book, its pages still lying open from where it had been earlier forgotten. He looked at it, feeling Potter sit up gingerly beside him. Even in the darkness there was a stain easily identifiable on the pages that Draco could see. Blood. Potter’s blood. It stained several pages of the notebook in large splatters. Draco, as a habitual cutter, knew that no small slices would cause that amount of blood.

He looked back to Potter, an eyebrow raised in question. Potter’s eyes were wide having seen what Draco had just discovered. Draco tilted his head slightly at the dark haired boy as he sat up slowly- it was a wonder Potter still had an arm with the great quantities of blood that spread over the pieces of paper.

Draco opened his mouth, not yet sure whether he was about to ask a question or pass a sarcastic comment. His and Potter’s heads spun to the door when they heard it open. Filch stood in the doorway, his matted hairball of a cat in his arms, a look of sadistic joy on his face at the promise of punishment.

“Out after curfew, fighting and damaging school property,” he said as his eyes scanned the room and took in Draco and Potter’s appearances, “both of you follow me- I’m taking you to Professor Snape.”

Draco’s eyes went as wide as Potter’s as he watched Filch turn and leave, waiting for them both to join him on the journey to the dungeons.

\- - -

**To Be Continued…?**   
_A/N: Well… a lot of rage in this chapter. I love angry Draco… especially when he is in the same room as an angry Harry! Once again thank you for so many lovely reviews and they will be as appreciated as ever should you choose to leave them for this chapter. I, personally, think you should- just look at all the pent up anger I clearly have, you don’t want to get on my bad side do you sweethearts? *giggles* don’t panic, I’m not threatening you really! Hope you enjoyed reading this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it._  
Take care sweethearts,  
Aurora Enkeli Medeis. 

_P >S> Sisters of Darkness has now got an LJ for those of you interested. You can check us out at this URL: http://www.livejournal.com/users/br_inner_circle/ ___

__\- - -_ _

____


	19. Chapter XIX

  
Author's notes: "You're beyond now- redemption, and no one's going to catch you when you fall." Harry’s back at Hogwarts. His allegiances are wavering. It’s only a matter of time… [Slash, self-harm, eating disorders, drug use…]  


* * *

** Beyond Redemption **   
_By Sisters of Darkness_

\- - -

For this Chapter:

**Rating(s)** : R/NC-17.  
 **Pairing(s)** : Mentions of Severus Snape/ Remus Lupin.  
 **Warning(s)** : None.

\- - -

**Chapter XIX**   
_By CS WhiteWolf_

**G** ingerly he reached up, fingers touching at his swelling cheek, wincing at the contact. How on earth he was going to explain this to Ron and Hermione was anyone’s guess, the interrogation and following lecture from the two Gryffindor’s would be as riveting as ever, he supposed. 

He felt something running from his nose and raised his hand hurriedly to wipe at it, catching a small dribble of blood on the back of his hand. Harry winced again; this night just wasn’t going his way at all. His face hurt, his stomach hurt, gods even his arms hurt from where Malfoy had punched and scratched at him. The recently healed yet still scabbed wounds on his left arm had been viciously re-opened by the blonds nails and he’d be damned if he was going to ask Snape for more ointment to help heal them. 

Speaking of Snape- this night could not possibly get any worse when the threat of seeing the Potions Master hung over you. This was all Malfoy’s fault, if the little ferret would just learn to leave him alone and stop baiting him every chance he got they wouldn’t be in this mess, he’d still be up in the tower writing in his journal, smoking his heart out and trying to get his mind around the fact that Lord bloody Voldemort and his band of merry men wanted him as a fellow consort. 

Harry briefly shut his eyes, opening them again in order to chance a look at the boy beside him, only to catch a somewhat indecipherable look being shot his way in return. He glared at the other boy as they turned off the Marble Staircase and made their way down into the dungeons and what was- to his mind at least- appropriately deemed ‘Slytherin Territory’. 

“Potter,” Harry glared at Malfoy for breaking the silence between them, “Was that blood I saw on your book?” 

Harry gave no outward sign that he had heard the other boy; only the increase in his heartbeat could have given away the fact that had heard Malfoy at all. 

“There’s no point ignoring me, Potter, I know what I saw!” Harry was astounded that the aristocrat still managed to sound so haughty with a split lip and half his face beginning to swell up. Still, he ignored the blond and kept walking. If Malfoy knew what it was he saw, then why the need to ask? 

They turned down a familiar corridor- one that would end at the door to Severus Snape’s office. Harry noticed he wasn’t the only one to tense at the realisation. 

“Keep moving!” Barked Filch’s voice, from behind him as both Malfoy and himself slowed their already measured footsteps. The caretaker had been surprisingly silent on the journey down, keeping his mutterings about the ‘old punishments’ to himself for a change. 

Then suddenly- and all too soon in Harry’s opinion- they were standing before the door of Snape’s office, the dull orange glow shining beneath it testament that the Head of Slytherin House was in and perhaps even waiting for them. Filch pushed past them, stepping up to the door when neither boy made any move to announce their presence, and chapped loudly upon the hard wood. 

There was a long moment of tensed silence as the three of them waited for the Snape to answer the door: two of them in trepidation and one of them practically bouncing in excitement. Mrs Norris gave a mewl of protest when Filch accidentally jostled her as the door before them suddenly opened to show the Potions Master standing tall and ominous, silhouetted in the doorway, his dark eyes sharply taking in the appearance of the two students before him. 

“Fighting, Mr Filch?” Snape’s voice sounded hoarse to Harry’s ears as if the man had been either sleeping or screaming before they arrived. Harry doubted either of them to be the case. 

“Out after curfew as well, Professor, and damaging school property up in the Astronomy Tower.” 

Snape’s eyes swivelled onto Harry, his dark gaze boring into the Gryffindor for a moment before he turned back to Filch. 

“I see. Thank you Mr Filch, I will take it from here.” 

“Yes, Professor,” Filch was practically salivating in glee at the thought of Severus Snape punishing the two boys. Harry grimaced slightly, trying not to wonder what the caretaker could be imagining as a suitable punishment for them. 

Snape stepped back from the doorway, his arms folded across his chest, eyes hooded as he watched both boys intently. 

“In.” Was all he had to say to get the both of them moving into the office and standing in front of his desk. Harry tried not to fidget too much, as he moved his journal from one hand to the other, his hands becoming sweaty and restless in the fear that Snape may try to confiscate it from him. He hadn’t dared try to shrink it and put it in his pocket in case Filch noticed and tried to confiscate it himself, standing here now though he’d wished he’d done so- he didn’t dare to hope that Malfoy would keep his mouth shut about the book. 

Severus moved over towards his desk, bracing his hands on the wood as he turned to face them, eyes narrowing dangerously upon the both of them. 

“Will one of you kindly explain to me what you are doing here in the state you are in?” His voice was low, merely a hiss in the silence of the room. Harry shifted slightly, head bowed, unable to meet the man’s gaze. When Snape’s voice was this quiet you knew you were in trouble. 

“Well?” Harry chanced a look up, only to find the Potions Master’s attention focussed almost solely upon a glaring Draco Malfoy. 

“Well what?” Draco snapped at Snape, Harry tensed. He didn’t care what sort of relationship the two of them shared behind closed doors, but even he knew that speaking thusly to one extremely livid looking Potions Master was bordering on suicide. 

“Do not take that tone with me, Mr Malfoy, least Slytherin suffer for your disrespect.” Harry watched as Draco tensed his eyes flashing with unreadable emotions but Snape continued to speak. 

“I believe we’ve spoken already about such behaviour, Mr Malfoy, have we not?” Draco pursed his lips, crossing his arms defensively. 

Severus watched Draco carefully, gauging the young man’s reactions to his words. He could barely believe that after their words less than a few hours ago that the blond Slytherin would go out and deliberately pick a fight with Potter. It could only have been deliberate if Filch had found them up in the Astronomy Tower- Draco had finished his prefect rounds, the boy should have been back in his own common room, as should Potter have been as well. 

“Why were you out of bed after curfew, Potter?”

Harry cringed as Snape’s attention focussed on him once more. The Head of Slytherin raised his eyebrow in question when he failed to answer immediately.

“Couldn’t sleep.” He muttered, dropping his eyes again. It was obvious that he was lying but Snape surprisingly didn’t call him on it. 

“Tell me, Mr Potter, if you would be so helpful,” his professor began instead, the sarcasm in his voice palpable, “How exactly did you and Mr Malfoy here happen to come to blows?”

Harry looked up again. Snape’s attention was once more focussed on the Slytherin boy. He frowned, sensing that there was more to all this than he was aware of. The majority of Snape’s anger seemed to be directed at the blond, which was surprising to Harry and not a little confusing. 

“He came up to the tower, we argued, he hit me and I hit back.” 

“Just like that?” Snape’s eyes raked over his bruised and slightly bloodied face. Harry nodded, flexing his fingers cautiously in their grip on his journal. 

“Just like that… sir.” He added as an afterthought. 

“I see,” Severus resisted the urge to rub at his eyes, “Is this true, Mr Malfoy?” 

Draco simply shrugged, his eyes now riveted on a spot above Severus’ head. Severus resisted the urge to hit his head off his own desk instead. When would the boy learn? What was it that he found so hard about being civil to Harry? He knew the boy’s did not get along, but to purposely provoke Harry in a way that resulted in a physical confrontation- that was deliberately going against everything Severus and the IC were working towards. 

Harry had already lost whatever trust he’d placed in Severus after his last encounter with Draco, Severus had to wonder if the Slytherin were deliberately going against the will of the IC despite the consequences such actions would surely bring upon him. 

“Very well then, the both of you will have detention with me for a week starting tomorrow night.” 

He watched as both Harry and Draco tensed, glaring at their chosen spots but both refraining from actually saying anything. Severus grit his teeth together, reigning in his control to keep from groaning in frustration. He moved over towards one of the cupboards in the room, his eyes scanning the shelves until they landed on a collection of unlabelled blue potions. 

Removing two of them as well as one of the nutritional ones for Draco- seeing as the blond had the audacity to smash the one he’d been given earlier. Not that Severus could blame him for that. He knew how temperamental the blond boy could be; pulling away from his kiss without responding to it had only added fuel to the fire burning inside the Slytherin. 

He turned back to the boys, silently handing them their potions. Draco glared at Severus but took the potions, downing the blue one immediately. The Slytherin wasn’t so stupid as to not take the healing potion offered to him, he had to maintain a certain look of superiority amongst the masses, having bruises and a bust lip would do nothing for his image. 

Harry took the offered potion with a little more caution than Draco had, holding it uncertainly in his hand, debating whether he should drink it or not. He knew the colour was reminiscent to that of a Healing Draught, but he didn’t know if he should take the chance that it was. Snape was a Death Eater after all, and despite Remus’ talk about Voldemort wanting to recruit him and all that, the crux of the matter was that Harry Potter was still the Dark Lord’s enemy until decided otherwise, and they may just have decided between then and now, that they didn’t in fact want him after all. 

“You’re welcome to go to the Hospital Wing, Mr Potter, if you distrust my potions.” Snape’s voice penetrated his thoughts and Harry realised he’d been debating a little too long on the matter. “I’m sure you’ll think of something to explain away how you look.” 

Harry stiffened a little, “I don’t want to go to the Hospital Wing, sir.” He said; his eyes still focussed on the bottle of blue potion. 

“You never know, Professor Snape,” Draco began conversationally, “He may not wish to be healed at all.” His voice turned suddenly malicious, “Quite the masochist aren’t we, Potter? Do you perhaps want some more blood for you book?”

Harry felt all colour drain from his face as Snape’s attention riveted first on a smirking Malfoy then to himself. He felt the bottle of potion slipping from suddenly lifeless fingers, making no move to catch it before it hit the ground, the contents spilling across the stone floor. He clutched his journal tightly to his chest, eyes wide and fearful even as they glared daggers at the blond boy beside him. 

“I think you should leave, Mr Malfoy.” Draco snapped his gaze back to Severus, his eyes flashing emotions Harry was more familiar with and thus easily comprehended- shock, anger, betrayal. The Slytherin didn’t even say a word in protest, as he made his way to the door and opening it. He paused on the threshold, fingering the bottle of nutritional potion Severus had given to him also. 

He turned suddenly, deliberately meeting Severus’ eyes as he held out his arm, the bottle sitting in the flat of his palm. The Potions Master’s eyes widened and he made to step forward when Draco suddenly turned his hand around. The bottle smashed upon the floor, green potion spilling everywhere. The blond spun on his heel and left before Severus even had the chance to process what had just happened. The slamming of his office door was evidence of the younger Malfoy’s re-ignited temper. 

Severus took a deep breath, clenching his hands into fists to keep them from shaking as he turned to look at the Gryffindor before him. Harry straightened, the hold on his journal intensifying. 

“I’m not going to take your book, Mr Potter. Nor am I going to request to see what is in it. I am however going to ask you just what Mr Malfoy was referring to?” 

“I don’t know, sir.” 

Severus’ eyes narrowed. “I am not in the mood for this, Potter. Draco mentioned blood for your book, what does he mean by that?” 

“Nothing. He’d say anything to get me into trouble. Sir.” 

The shaking in Severus’ hands increased, he tensed his muscles in the hopes of lessening the tremble. 

“You missed your Occlumency lesson last night, Potter,” Severus’ voice was noticeably tensed. 

“I know, sir, I- sorry, I… Remus told me.” Harry stated; Severus merely nodded waiting for the boy to continue. 

“I shouldn’t perhaps let this affect my lessons, but… are you even teaching me, sir?” the words were blurted out, and as soon as they had been said Harry wished he could take them back, expecting the Potions Professor to get angry and try to hex him for daring to ask. 

Instead Severus dropped into the chair behind him, waving his hand in a jerky fashion, inviting Harry to sit as well. 

“I am teaching you,” Severus watched him carefully. 

“But?” 

“But what, Mr Potter?”

“Nothing, sir, it’s just- your sentence seemed unfinished.”

“Indeed?” 

Harry wiped his sweaty palms discreetly on his robes, flexing his fingers as they relaxed their grip on his journal. He nodded at his teacher. 

“But, perhaps I am not teaching you in a way that will allow you to learn Occlumency as easily as one with your potential should.” 

Harry bit the inside of his mouth angrily. Well that made sense, he supposed. Especially considering the man was a Death Eater.

“Why do you want me?” Harry suddenly asked; it was a question that had been bugging him since his talk with Remus. 

Severus didn’t answer, parrying the question instead for one of his own. 

“Why didn’t you turn up for your lesson last night?” 

Harry shifted, not answering for a long while. He looked up, his eyes burning intensely in the dimly lit office, “I didn’t think I could see you without wanting to curse you, sir. Even after Remus explained things.”

The Potions Master folded his hands together, sitting forward in his chair. “And just what would you have cursed me for, Harry?” he asked, deliberately using the young man’s first name. “For informing Draco of what I knew?” 

Harry opened his mouth to respond with an ‘ _of course, why else?_ ’ but Severus continued on, not leaving room for him to speak.

“Or because of the nature of my relationship with Remus?” 

Harry’s mouth snapped shut, his eyes turning fiery. “If it’s all the same to you, sir, I’d rather not get into this topic of conversation.” 

“Why not, Mr Potter? Does it disturb you?” 

“It’s not the fact it’s you and Remus,” Harry said through clenched teeth, “It _is_ the fact it’s you and _Remus_.” 

Severus’ eyes narrowed before widening slightly. “You are jealous?”

Harry stood from his chair. “What I am has nothing to do with you.” 

“I think it has everything to do with me, Harry.”

“No, it really doesn’t.”

“Are you afraid I’ll take him away from you?” Harry pursed his lips but never answered. 

“You are, aren’t you?” Severus was slightly awed at the prospect. “Why would it bother you that Remus was with me?” 

“It’s not you…”

“With anyone?” 

“Professor, it’s late, I really think-”

“Why does it bother you so?” 

Harry glared at the floor, clenching his jaw- the movement slightly painful as his swollen cheek was stretched. 

“Why, Mr Potter?” 

“You really want to know?” Those green eyes burned through Severus in their intensity, their anger. The Head of Slytherin found himself able only to nod his head in response to the question. 

“Because he’s _mine_!” The boy all but growled out, “Because he’s all I have left and I don’t want you taking him away from me! Because you have Malfoy and Lucius and Voldemort to love you and I have no one except Remus!” 

They stared at each other for a long while, neither daring to speak not move for a moment as the sudden tension in the air escalated. Severus didn’t know how to respond to such a declaration. He wasn’t sure if he _could_ respond without either lying or proclaiming some sort of allegiance to the young man before him; this young man who feared that the werewolf who loved him above all else would leave him. Perhaps not leave him, but at least to neglect him. 

Severus turned his back to Harry, opening one of his cupboards and pretending to rummage through it for something or other as he tried once more to stifle the shaking in his hands. Was this how Draco felt? Is this why Draco couldn’t accept Harry? 

He shut his eyes briefly. No wonder the boy was so angry with him, felt so betrayed. Did he think the Inner Circle would forget him? Did he fear being rejected for Harry Potter- his biggest rival at Hogwarts, the one who would beat him in most everything, take away his glory?

Hurriedly pulling out another Healing Draught, Severus thrust it out to Harry, making sure the boy had a firm grasp of it before letting the bottle go. 

“You may leave now, Mr Potter. I’ll see you for detention tomorrow night.” 

With that said Severus turned away again and left through the door leading to his private chambers, unable to wait for Harry’s reply- if he had one, or for the boy to leave. His hands were shaking terribly. He headed straight over to his supply of personal potions, selection a few of the bottles for use. 

There was school tomorrow. He told himself. Classes to teach. He told himself. But he couldn’t bring himself to care as he popped the cork of the first bottle and allowed himself a long, deep sniff of the rather sulphurous smelling solution. All he did care about was what a terribly mistake he’d been making with Draco, and he hadn’t even realised it. He’d speak with the boy tomorrow, and reassure him that he wasn’t being replaced or whatever else he may have thought up. 

Severus’ heartbeat increased in pace, his mind becoming foggy as his substances kicked in. His last thought before the high took him was that he needed to speak with Draco, and soon, before the boy did something they’d all regret. 

\- - -

**To Be Continued…?**   
_A/N: Sisters of Darkness would just like to say that to those of you who think you’ve seen ‘dramatic’ done in this story thus far, that you haven’t seen anything yet. We’d like to forewarn you keep yourself strapped in at all times when reading the upcoming chapters because you ain’t seen nothing yet! And of course, to get these exciting chapters out for you to read we’d be obliged if you all reviewed! Thanks so much to everyone who has been doing so thus far, you guys are what we’re writing for!_  
Peace,  
Take care sweethearts,  
Sisters of Darkness 

\- - -


	20. Chapter XX

  
Author's notes: "You're beyond now- redemption, and no one's going to catch you when you fall." Harry’s back at Hogwarts. His allegiances are wavering. It’s only a matter of time… [Slash, self-harm, eating disorders, drug use…]  


* * *

** Beyond Redemption **   
_By Sisters of Darkness_

\- - -

For this Chapter:

**Rating(s)** : R/NC-17.  
 **Pairing(s)** : Mentions of Draco Malfoy/ Severus Snape.  
 **Warning(s)** : Drug Use; Self-Harm (cutting); Adult Language; Mentions of Abuse.

\- - -

**Chapter XX**   
_By Aurora Enkeli Medeis_

**P** otions had always been Draco’s favourite subjects. He enjoyed the innate detail needed to make everything perfect and if there was one thing Draco was it was a perfectionist. Severus, of course, was a huge factor in Draco’s love of Potions, which was why today was the first day in six years that Draco did not want to be in the class.

Severus had cast off his advances the night before, pushing the blond away when he kissed him. Then to add insult to injury the Potions Master had easily dismissed Draco from the room later the same evening. No doubt to have some alone time with precious little Potter he thought bitterly. Said Gryffindor was sitting directly across from Draco, shoulders hunched over the notes he was taking. Draco was sorry to see that Potter hadn’t bled to death over his notebook. On the long descent to Severus’ chambers with Filch had Draco wondering about the telltale bloodstains but any curiosity was quickly quenched by his dismissal from the room.

He scribbled the words from the board, pointedly not looking at Severus. Draco could feel a familiar bubbling in his stomach, the betrayal and hurt he was feeling being over shadowed by his feeling so completely furious. His hands began to shake, his normally curved, sweeping letters beginning to look more and more ragged. 

Draco slipped his free hand inside his robes, fingers seeking and finding the snake pendant that hung on the thin silver chain. He played with it, wishing, needing to open it for even just the smallest amount of powder. He could feel dark eyes frowning at him, mentally cataloguing the signs of the addiction Draco himself had yet to acknowledge. 

Draco grew bored with his note taking, eyes occasionally watching the second hand ticking slowly around the face of the clock on the far wall. It was growing closer to the end of the class when Severus spoke for the first time in over half an hour.

“Those of you who have finished may begin to pack up your things, those who haven’t will continue working until they have done so.”

Draco began sliding various pieces of parchment into his bag when Severus spoke again.

“Mr Malfoy, you will wait behind.” 

Draco scowled at the inkpot he was screwing the top back onto, aware of Potter glancing in his direction. Normally Draco would have gladly looked up and sneered at the Gryffindor but he would see enough of the dark haired boy in detention later that night.

The bell sounded as Draco was throwing his bag over one shoulder. He stood quickly from his stool and pushed past those who were filing out of the rows, knocking hard into several of them. He swept straight past Severus’ desk and out the door, not allowing the Potions Master time to call him back.

Hastily, Draco turned a corner and ducked inside an empty classroom, spelling the door locked as he heard the voices of his classmates coming up the corridor. He dropped his bag with a thud and fumbled inside his robes with shaking hands, quickly growing frustrated at not being able to pull the chain from beneath his shirt. Finally he yanked it free, nearly snapping it in the process. His pale hands were now trembling so badly he was having problems screwing the head off the snake but managed it eventually.

Draco scooped as much white powder from the body of the snake as the small spatula could hold and brought it to his nostril. He clamped the other one shut with his thumb as he inhaled deeply. Draco put the snake back together and stuffed it back beneath his shirt. He wiped his nose, several grains of the drugs coming off onto his fingers. Feeling it was going to be a tiresome day, Draco made sure to snort those grains up as well.

Throwing his bag back onto his right shoulder he slipped from the room and quickly caught up with the tail end of the crowd. He pushed his way past them, many of them simply moving out the way. Draco could here mutterings and whispers. He gave his nose a brief but hard rub; it was indeed going to be a long day. 

Draco spent the rest of his day purposely not looking at Potter, attempting to focus in class and ducking into empty rooms for what he now dubbed his ‘Top-up hits’. Ancient Runes had possibly been the most boring thing he had ever experienced and it did not help his mood to have Granger periodically eyeing him suspiciously. Sometimes, Draco mused, that Mudblood was too smart for her own good. She either knew Draco was as high as kite or that something had happened with Potter. Any sign of her showing knowledge of something and Draco would be forced to hex her face off. Not that it wouldn’t be an improvement mind you, Draco had thought to himself as he glared at the back of her frizzy head on the way out of the classroom.

The blond was now sprawled across his four-poster bed, curtains sealed shut. He was tracing the tip of his dagger in languid lines up and down his exposed forearm. Countless numbers of thin scars adorned the skin of his left wrist but there were none else where on his arm. He pressed the tip of the blade a little harder, toying with the idea of cutting up the rest of his pale arm. As began to drag the dagger slightly harder over the thick skin of his forearm Blaise’s voice came floating through the curtains.

“We’re all heading down to dinner, are you coming?” Draco nearly choked on thin air as he practically jumped from the mattress; he quickly regained his composure and replied.

“I’ll be down in a minute.” He heard Blaise leave and breathed a sigh of relief as he placed the dagger back in his box. It was completely unlike him to let his guard down to the extent he wouldn’t know someone was in the room and he couldn’t help but wonder what had caused it.

He sealed up the box and, pulling down the sleeve of his robes, spelled open the curtains. He clambered from the bed and slipped the box back into his trunk, sealing it shut with various charms. He swept down the stairs into the Slytherin common room and was greeted by Pansy hooking her arm in his and gushing on about something. Crabbe and Goyle stood in front of them and Blaise took up position on Draco’s other side. He really was not in the mood for these serpentine group dynamics and as they made their way through the corridors he wondered if it would look awful suspicious were he to be caught hexing four of his housemates.

By the time they had reached the Great Hall, Draco was willing to risk it just to shut Pansy up and get the disgusting wench off his arm. They sat themselves at their usual spot at the Slytherin table, Crabbe and Goyle instantly putting as much food as they could find on their plates. Draco eyed it all with disdain, finding the only up side of it to be the fact that it had caused Pansy to detach herself from him.

He poured himself a glass of water and sipped it slowly. There was no usual pang of hunger in his stomach, in spite of the fact he hadn’t eaten for almost two days. Coupled with the quantity of drugs in his system, Draco should have wondered why he wasn’t collapsing into a convulsing heap on the floor. Instead he was wondering what Severus’ purpose for heading his way was.

Draco took a large mouthful of water as Severus came up behind him.

“Mr Malfoy I wish to see you in my office before your detention this evening. I will be expecting you at six thirty as opposed to seven o’clock.” Severus turned on his heel, not waiting for a response before he left the hall.

Draco looked up to the clock- it read five forty-five. Draco smirked openly, causing more than a few strange looks from his housemates. There were forty-five minutes until Severus was expecting him, which meant there was an hour and five minutes until his detention officially started. Draco did a quick calculation in his head and smirked wider- it would be in an hour and a half that he would show his face in the Potions class. 

He stood from the table, taking one last gulp of water before he did so. He made his way out the hall, allowing himself one brief look at Potter before he left. The Gryffindor was prodding idly at the food on his plate as per the usual custom. Draco sneered at the dark haired boy but turned and left before Potter could look up.

The journey back down to the Slytherin common room was brief and Draco entered the empty room, making his way quickly up the staircase to the dormitory he had only just left. 

Spelling the door shut, Draco dropped to his knees in front of his trunk. Taking off the charms, it sprung open and the blond retrieved the box from inside. It too was easily opened as he carried it over to the desk.

Draco sat down in the wooden chair and pulled it in nearer the desk. From within the box he extracted the bag of cocaine, tipping a large amount onto the desktop, a segment of straw and his ivory handled switchblade. He lovingly caressed the carvings in the pearly handle. They were ruins meant to provide both wisdom and protection. It had been a gift from Severus for his previous birthday but Draco was certain that the Potions Master had not fully intended it to be used the way it often was (its main purpose was to slice potions ingredients) and this knowledge gave Draco a substantial amount of satisfaction.

He flipped the shining blade from the handle and used the smooth edge to push the white powder into neat lines, four of them to be exact. Putting the straw to his left nostril and holding the other shut he snorted up the first line and down the second. He paused, rubbing at his nose and blinking rapidly. Two lines at a time had been the most he had done but tonight would be a hard night, Draco reasoned. This excuse led him to snort up the third line before dropping the straw. 

He rubbed at his eyes as he sat back in the chair. He opened them, only to find his vision blurred. His initial reaction was to curse several times in rapid succession as he attempted to shake the cotton wool like feeling from his head. After a few minutes he dared open his eyes again and found his vision to be normal.

Draco brushed the drugs into a pile and then tried to sweep them from the desk into his palm. However his hand eye coordination seemed completely off and it fell onto the plush green carpet of the dormitory. He swore again and dropped from the chair to his knees, pulling his wand from inside his robes. He case a cleaning charm on the floor and inspected it for remnants but was satisfied it was all gone. 

As he stood up he lost his balance and it was only grabbing onto the edge of the desk that stopped him from toppling backwards. Draco hauled himself to his feet, a wave of nausea flooding over him. He swallowed heavily and cast the cleaning charm on the desk. Another heavy gulp pushed the nausea down again as he put everything back inside the box.

He dropped into his trunk that he charmed locked as a bout of nausea subsided and gave way to cramp like pain in his abdomen. Draco held his hand over the site of the pain, breathing heavily as he wondered if perhaps he had gone too far. The pain ebbed, leaving only euphoria the likes of which he had never felt. Normally the drugs elevated his feelings of self-worth but this time… this time he felt like he could take on the world. Just as well, he realised, as it was now pushing twenty past seven.

Draco left the dormitory, his heart beating significantly faster than it should have. At the bottom of the stairs he saw Pansy coming into the common room, her eyes lighting up upon seeing Draco. Oh if there were a time for her not to run into him. She opened her mouth to speak but Draco pushed her roughly out the way. He ignored her protests as he left, sweeping through the halls on his way to the classroom.

Reaching the door, Draco stopped briefly, hand pressed against the stone wall as his head began to spin. He screwed his eyes shut, willing the dizziness to subside. A minute or so went by and it did. Draco swung open the door and strode into the room, pleased to see that his entrance had startled Potter. The dark-haired boy went back to chopping up ingredients as Severus stormed out from inside his office. Before he could question Draco’s tardiness he took in the blonde’s appearance- a sheen of sweat across his forehead and upper lip, deep rapid breathing and heavy swallowing, slightly reddened eyes and extremely dilated pupils despite the dullness of the room.

“Do you think this is at all appropriate, Mr Malfoy?” Severus asked, voice low and dangerous. Potter looked between the two and frowned; he too noticed Draco’s appearance and felt sure that there was more to the Potions Master’s question than the issue of Draco’s timing. 

Draco glared at Severus and swept past him, sitting down at the desk opposite Potter.

“I’ll assume our task is the chopping of ingredients?” Draco asked, voice disrespectfully drawling. He didn’t require an answer and chose to simply pick up the knife and chop at the roots laid out on the desk.

Severus narrowed his eyes and sat down at his desk, turning his focus to the papers in front of him. In any other circumstances he would have directly questioned Draco but he wouldn’t risk another scene in front of the Gryffindor.

Ten minutes passed by, seemingly untroubled. Both boys were silent and Draco put more anger into cutting the roots than required, sometimes imagining they were Potter, other times envisioning they were his own arms. 

As he chopped along one root he looked up at Severus, holding his gaze there until he got the Potions Master to look up. Severus’ eyes flicked down to where Draco was methodically slicing the roots, nearing his own finger with every chop. The blond smirked challengingly, causing Severus’ eyes to narrow.

Draco’s knife reached the end of the root and he continued to cut. Short, thin cuts opened on his finger, droplets of blood beginning to trickle onto the desk. Severus set his quill down and straightened in his chair. This imposing stance did nothing to deter Draco as he began to cut towards his knuckle. It should have stung, he should have felt the blood trickling down his finger but all he could feel was a perverse elation. He cut past the knuckle and began a line of cuts up the back of his hand.

“Leave, Mr Potter.” Severus shouted, causing the addressed boy to jump and drop his knife.

“Professor?” He questioned, only to be shouted at again.

“Potter! Out!” Severus’ eyes never left Draco’s as Potter stood quickly from his chair. He looked to Draco and saw the blond smiling innocently at the Potions Master. Hastily, he left the room, not wanting to further anger Severus.

Draco sat the knife down calmly as Severus came over to the desk, bending his face to the level of Draco’s.

“Do you think this is some kind of game?” He asked. Draco continued to smile sweetly.

“It slipped.” He replied, doing all he could to not burst out laughing inappropriately. Severus looked torn between shouting and attempting to keep his cool. He had identified how fragile the young blond really was. He didn’t need Severus snapping at him now.

“Draco,” he began, sounding decidedly exasperated, “what is wrong with you? Is it Harry? What is it that you need?” The Potions Master wanted desperately to help the boy. He needed love and reassurance- Severus could identify with that more than he cared to. “We can’t help if you won’t open up to us. Would it help to see your father?” 

Draco’s eyes narrowed to no more than silver slits. He placed his hands flat on the desk, leaning forward until he and Severus were almost nose-to-nose.

“I don’t need, Potter. I don’t need you. I don’t need the fucking Inner Circle and I _do not_ need my father.”

Severus stood up straight, obsidian eyes wide. For perhaps the first time in years he had been shocked to point where he could not even disguise it. Draco stood from his stool with such force that it toppled backwards with a crash.

"It should be Potter you're looking out for, after all, aren't abused pasts your area of expertise?" Draco sneered, "You don't need to save me Severus." The blond snorted, "Trying to save me? You're as bad as Potter ...you _both_ deserve all the shit you've been put through."

His head spun and his heart beat at such an irregular rhythm that he was momentarily concerned he might collapse. With what mental power he could manage he staved of the feelings, moving around the desk and pushing past Severus. Draco wrenched the door open and stormed out the room, his vision blurring and chest constricting as he made his way to his dormitory, only one goal in mind.

\- - -

**To Be Continued…?**   
_A/N: We had promised drama …one can only hope I didn’t disappoint! My poor little dragon is a mess in this chapter and things aren’t going to get much better. The next couple of chapters are most squee worthy. I’ve even written a bit of Chapter 22 that not even CS is allowed to see until it is all done! Once again we’d like to thank everyone who has continued to review and hope that you continue to do so. And to those who are still reading silently- perhaps this drama can pull you from the reviewers’ closet?  
Take care sweethearts,  
Aurora Enkeli Medeis. ___

__\- - -_ _

__

____


	21. Chapter XXI

  
Author's notes: "You're beyond now- redemption, and no one's going to catch you when you fall." Harry’s back at Hogwarts. His allegiances are wavering. It’s only a matter of time… [Slash, self-harm, eating disorders, drug use…]  


* * *

** Beyond Redemption **   
_By Sisters of Darkness_

\- - -

For this Chapter:

**Rating(s)** : NC-17.  
 **Pairing(s)** : Mentions of Severus Snape/ Draco Malfoy; Severus Snape/Other.  
 **Warning(s)** : Solvent Abuse; Trichotillomania; Self-Harm (scratching); Mentions of Abuse

\- - -

**Chapter XXI**   
_By CS WhiteWolf_

**S** everus could only stare blankly at the empty spot upon which Draco no longer occupied. His mind taking a long moment to process the blonde’s words, 

“ _I don’t need you… abused pasts your area of expertise… you deserve all the shit that you’ve been put through…_ ”

His breath hitched as the words registered with him, a shaky gasping of air as he grabbed the desk beside him to keep his balance. His hands were trembling, Draco’s words repeating over and over in his mind, a mantra of blame and weakness, as he felt a bubble of panic swiftly inflating within him, rushing up from his swirling stomach and up through his constricting throat, choking him as he tried to swallow back the animalistic cry of hurt and despair. 

Anyone else having heard Draco’s words may not have taken them as seriously as Severus did, not even where they to have known what the blond Slytherin was referring to. But Severus did. Severus did because the issue of his past was one of the most sensitive issues one could possibly confront the Potion’s Master with. Not even lying outright to Albus Dumbledore filled him with the same extent of fear and trepidation as mention of his past did. 

Severus pushed away from the desk, his eyes falling briefly on the bloodied ingredients left by his young lover, he stumbled away clenching his eyes closed to try and block the sight from his eyes. Yet another declaration that he had failed the Slytherin boy, failed to see and understand just how far the boy’s hatred and jealousy of Harry Potter extended. He should have known. He should have seen it all sooner, the signs had all been there had be but looked harder, but he had been blinded by the Gryffindor boy, by his want to recruit and help the dark-haired boy as he had not been. 

In seeing what he had through their Occlumency lessons, Severus himself had been able to- through time and many hours of careful contemplation- see past his irrational hatred of Harry Potter and sympathise with the life the ‘Boy-Who-Lived’ had had to live thus far, even going so far as to relate to the boy. It had been his idea to recruit Harry, but he’d only mentioned in on basis of the boy’s immense power. He’d said nothing of how he felt the boy shared the same kind of childhood Severus himself had had; to a lesser degree that was true, but abuse was abuse all the same, it did not matter whether is was emotional, physical, or even sexual abuse. 

A shiver wracked his thin frame as he made his way towards the wooden door behind his desk, the one that lead through into his private quarters. His hands fumbled with the doorknob, now sweaty palms slipping over the silvered handle, scrambling for purchase until the door finally clicked open, swinging inwards and causing Severus to all but fall into his rooms.

He pushed the door firmly closed behind him, leaning back upon it a moment to catch his laborious breathing before pushing away and purposefully striding over towards the desk situated at the opposite end of the room. He collapsed into the high-backed chair, throwing his head into his hands and pausing, taking a moment to breathe, to just breathe, to try and calm his pulsating heart, which beat in vicious time with his racing thoughts and memories of times he’d long ago tried to put behind him but hadn’t quite yet managed to do so. 

He carded his fingers through his hair, curling his shaking fingers into fists and holding his head in a vice like grip, nails digging bit by bit into his sculpt, though he noticed not. He barely even noticed when he released his head to scramble frantically at his desk draw, opening it and removing his private collection of potions. 

They rattled together as he removed three vials of his strongest solvents; his shaking hand’s steadying themselves enough to remove the stoppers. Hisses sounded as the gasses were allowed to escape their glass boundaries. Severus bent his head over the grouped bottles. Inhaling slowly and deeply in an effort to calm himself, to stop his raging thoughts. He didn’t want to think. He didn’t want to remember. He just wanted the hit that would calm him enough to wait out the time until it was suitable to go after the blond Slytherin. 

The Little Snake who now resented him for not understanding, for failing to see, for failing perhaps to want to see the truth of the situation. And now the boy was angry beyond all comprehension, going so far as to dose himself up on his drugs when there was no doubt that he’d already reached his limit. 

The boy who had cut himself during his detention, his eyes never leaving Severus’ own as if to say- _look, Severus, I’m doing this because of you, to hurt you like you’ve been hurting me… I don’t need you, Severus, I’ve never needed you; no one needs you… you can’t even look after yourself, stupid boy…_

Severus winced visibly, unable to detach Draco’s voice from the one of his own self-doubt and the one of loathing. He grasped the bottle of orange solution and raised it towards his nose, holding the opening about an inch away from his nostrils as he inhaled, again… and again… 

A wave of dizziness washed over him, short and fleeting, but nothing else, no dreaminess, no feelings of drunkenness, no high, nothing save the little niggling at the back of his head that promised another unbearable headache. Severus’ hold on the glass tightened dangerously. He couldn’t have built up his resistance. Not yet, not now! He needed this, he needed this fix, he did, he needed it! 

He slammed the vial down picking up one of the others and trying that. This time even the dizziness failed to wash over him. His nose began to burn but he hardly felt it as he slammed that bottle down also, reaching for the third and final vial. 

Severus felt his panic building as he held the greenish substance; it sloshed gently against its glass confines, a thin sheen of green smoke gently rising from its cylindrical neck. He held it under his nose, inhaling the solvent again. 

Nothing.

Tears of frustration and irritation prickled at his dark eyes as he shook the potion, causing it to bubble and hiss dangerously, but it made no difference. His heart hammered against his chest. Calm down. He needed to calm down. But he couldn’t and… why wasn’t it working? Then he did something he’d never done before and would regret doing when he could once more think logically over the whole incident- he swallowed the solution. 

One mouthful was all it took to give him the head rush he’d never forget. The bottle fell from his fingers as they groped at his immediately burning throat, he could actually feel his skin being eaten away, swelling up and closing in on him, the back of his tongue began blistering as well. 

Severus pushed up from his chair; a surge of dizziness coming over him so profoundly that he found himself staggering backwards into the bookshelf behind him, well thumbed tomes falling to the floor in a series of thuds and bangs from the force of the jarring. 

He had to get to Draco. He thought vaguely as he lurched forward, his vision blackening as he found his air way dangerously constricted, he scratched at his throat, colliding with his desk as he tried to make his way to the door. Draco… he- Dray… 

Severus started shuddering as images sprang unbidden to his mind, he choked out a shout of denial as visions came over him, hallucinations so vivid it set him stumbling away, waving his arms out in front of him as if to ward off the memories, the illusions of the past. 

A strangled scream caught on its way out his mouth as he felt fingers running through his hair-

_…Such pretty hair…_

He grabbed at his oleaginous locks tugging at it, ripping it from his head, feeling the grease coating his fingers. No! No! Ugly, he was ugly! With ugly hair and an ugly body. Severus whimpered as the voice that haunted his nightmares spoke to him. His body tingling with the feeling of rough hands touching him, touching him in ways hadn’t understood, hadn’t liked, inappropriate places-

_…Please no, father, don’t…_

He cried out, falling against one of the stone walls. He shuddering heavily, trying to force himself into a corner, wanting to make himself as small as possible in the belief that in doing so he would be protected. He felt his legs collapse beneath him, pulling him down until he was nothing more than a shivering, quivering wreck upon the floor, gasping for breath and tormented by memories of the past, reliving the abuse he’d suffered by those of long gone. 

He covered his ears as he heard the phantom breaths, the panting and grunting in the darkness as he squeezed his eyes shut, clenching them closed, pressing them with his fingers, his nails, dragging them down his face- scratching his cheeks until the skin split beneath his ministrations and began leaking with blood. 

“No,” he gasped hoarsely, “No more, no!” he coughed, his throat aching, constricting, his breathing laboured. He started wheezing as he felt his throat closing in, making it impossible to breath. He’d gone too far. Oh dear gods, he’d gone too far!

And he couldn’t remember why this was a bad thing as he crawled along the floor, dragging himself to do something though through the haze in his mind he wasn’t entirely sure what until he reached the fireplace, the dying embers pulsating with heat, surging against his face as he threw his arm out knocking the decorative urn beside the hearth over, the lid toppled off, blue powder spilling out in a whoosh. 

Severus coughed, his chest heaving for the air he could barely feed his lungs, his vision blurred further as weakened fingers grabbed up some of the powder and feebly tossed it into the fireplace, watching as the dying embers suddenly sprang to life in bright blue flames. He pulled himself forward, cowering against one of the sooty inner walls, suffocating on his words as he gasped out his destination, ‘ _Malfoy Manor_ ’. 

Malfoy Manor. He had to get to the manor. The very thought consumed his mind as his body was thrown twisting and tumbling through the floo connection until in a whish of blurred fireplaces and a heady dose of dizziness, Severus fell out the fireplace, barely in time to lift his head from the cool marble floor before he felt his stomach heaving its meagre contents up and out of his body. 

Dark spots of colour danced before his watering eyes. It was getting harder and harder to breathe as his throat constricted further from the additional abuse it was receiving. He felt hands lifting him back from the puddle of vomit he was all but lying in. 

“Severus? Severus!” Cool hands, blissfully cool hands were touching his face, lifting him and holding him to a silken-clothed chest. “Severus what’s happened? What’s wrong?”

“Draco,” he wheezed out. His mind vaguely recognised the feminine voice, the slim yet strong arms cradling him. He heard the sharp intake of breath. “Draco,” he choked out again, unable to even muster a whimper as he felt his throat tear with the effort to speak, to breath. He felt tears prickling at his eyes momentarily before they fell, running down his bloodied face in some vein attempt to cleanse him of his past, of his present. 

He was sure he heard the panicked voices of Narcissa and Lucius, perhaps even the sound of someone flooing out the manor. He couldn’t be sure though as his mind slowly began to shut down, the darkness of unconsciousness taking him over. And only thing kept running through his mind: Draco, Draco… I’ve failed him again…

 

\- - -

**To Be Continued…?**   
_A/N: Okay a few things to say in this:_

_a) To those of you who noticed the slight change in name of this fic, we’d like to say that we’ve decided to split BR into parts, as some rather daunting calculations on our part have revealed that by the time we even get to the summer before 7th year we will have over one hundred chapters (at least)._  
We feel that by splitting BR into parts it will not only be easier for us as the authors to work with, but also for readers (new and old) to deal with, because lets face it, as exciting and fabulous (hehe) as this fic is, even we feel that having to wade through all the chapters that will eventually make up ‘Beyond Redemption’ would no doubt become tedious after a while!   
This won’t really change anything thus far in that we’ll still be updating regularly and will let you know when Part I ends and when Part II will be posted. 

_b) Sisters of Darkness would also like to announce the first fic unwritten by either Aurora or CS to have been added to our favourite stories: ‘The Pain of a Promise’ by Sansa. This piece is both powerfully written and deals with rather traumatic themes, of which as you should all know we both reveal in dealing with. If you know any fics of similar themes/content as either Sansa’s fic or BR on HPFandom, drop us an e-mail or a review and let us know, we may add it as well. And if you read Sansa’s fic, we ask that you review and let her know just what you thought of it- it really is rather good!_

_c) We would once again like to thank everyone who has been reading and reviewing, particularly those of you who have been regular reviewers of this fic, you never cease to amaze us with the comments and insights some of you have been making! Special thanks to those silent readers who popped out of the ‘closet’ to drop us a comment! We greatly appreciate it and hope you stay out and keep reviewing!_

_In fearing this A/N is beginning to turn into it’s own mini chapter, we’ll leave you all for the night. If you have any questions/comments either e-mail us or put them in a review and we’ll get back to you as soon as!_

_SD_Beyond_Redemption@Yahoo.co.uk_

_Thanks for taking the time to read this._  
Peace,  
Take care sweethearts,  
Sisters of Darkness 

\- - -


	22. Chapter XXII

  
Author's notes: "You're beyond now- redemption, and no one's going to catch you when you fall." Harry’s back at Hogwarts. His allegiances are wavering. It’s only a matter of time… [Slash, self-harm, eating disorders, drug use…]  


* * *

** Beyond Redemption **   
_By Sisters of Darkness_

\- - -

For this Chapter:

**Rating(s)** : R/NC-17.  
 **Pairing(s)** : Draco Malfoy/ Lucius Malfoy.  
 **Warning(s)** : Drug Use; Self-Harm (cutting); Incest; Attempted Suicide (Subconscious).

\- - -

**Chapter XXII**   
_By Aurora Enkeli Medeis_

**L** ucius Malfoy stepped out of Severus’ private floo, his nostrils instantly struck with the potent fumes of countless potions. He swallowed heavily to avoid retching at the stench. Small clouds, sickly orange and putrid green in colour, hung over opened jars. Lucius was already feeling light-headed and nauseous from the fumes so did not plan on spending much longer in the room. 

He held one hand over his mouth and nose, his eyes quickly surveying the damage caused by numerous fallen books and jars as he made his way to the office door. He pushed it open and slammed it behind him, taking a few moments to gasp in the stale yet welcomingly fresh air of the dungeons. His heart skipped a beat as his eyes came to rest on what lay atop one of the desks.

Chopped ingredients, the knife that had been used- covered in blood. There were drops of blood on the stained wood of the desk, a few scattered beside a fallen stool and then the occasional drip leading a path to the classroom door.

“Draco,” Lucius said softly. He knew where his son would be- Severus had informed him weeks ago of the room where Draco would hide himself. He strode across the classroom and wrenched the partly-closed door open, slamming it behind him and stepping into the corridor.

\- - -

Draco slammed the door of the empty classroom behind him, several shards of wood falling from the doorframe and a cloud a dust rising up around him. He pulled the bag of cocaine he had retrieved from his room out of his robes and dropped it unceremoniously onto a desk. Draco’s head was still spinning, so much so that he had actually collapsed onto his dormitory floor; only the thought of more drugs had spurred him on.

His stomach was turning, over and over, what little food he had eaten that day churning in his stomach and rising up in his body to his throat. Shooting pains across his abdominal muscles came and went but the excruciating itch in the cavity of his nose was not wavering. He tipped some powder onto the desk, too far gone to care whether the dust was removed from the desktop. It was all going the same way anyway. 

Hands shaking almost beyond reasonable function he managed to construct four slightly thicker lines of cocaine before taking out his straw and snorting up the first line. The vomit that he had been suppressing for almost the last hour finally won the battle. Draco’s whole body convulsed with a powerful retch that saw the meagre contents of his stomach splattered onto the floor.

The shooting pains were back and, clutching his mid-section, Draco stumbled to his feet, making his way across the room towards the emaciated window where Severus had found him drunk all those weeks ago. But not even Severus could save him now.

At the thought of the Potions Master Draco seethed and roared with anger so powerful that nearby desks shook slightly. Draco balled his fist and connected it with the window. The ancient glass shattered easily, most shards falling to the ground far below with an inappropriately melodic tinkle. Several large shards however, fell inwards, slicing Draco’s fist and hand before falling to the stone floor and smashing.

Rivulets of blood ran down Draco’s hand as he flexed his fingers, noticing the patterns the cuts were making with a morbid fascination. His head began to spin more, making him sway on his feet and stumble dangerously towards the hole in the wall where the window had previously been.

Then he knew what he needed. More blood. More pain. Slicing. Ripping. Tearing. More and more blood- the pretty red liquid looking black in the moonlight. He lifted his hand to his lips and began lapping his tongue over the skin. The warm metallic taste blocking out the vile taste of regurgitate fruit- he needed more. More blood. More cuts. More taste. More. More. More. 

All his mind could focus on was the need for pain, need for blood as he dropped to his knees. His vision was blurred, eyes watering as he tried to search for the largest chunk of glass. Giving up he picked one at random and stood up again. His head spun, the walls of the room feeling further away than they really were. 

Draco pulled the left sleeve of his robes up and pressed the glass into his skin. But his sleeve fell back down. He growled and pushed it up but once again it fell. He pulled and pulled at it with frustration until eventually his focus shifted to the front of his robes.

He pulled them off, the material ripping before he cast them to the floor. He stabbed the glass at his right forearm and dragged it. Deep. Hard. Stinging. Ripping. And _yes_ he _could_ still feel. Then the blood was pouring- dripping to floor. Draco pulled his arm to his chest, the red liquid seeping into the very fibres of his white shirt.

Another wave of nausea hit but he successfully pushed this one down, shaking his head and screwing up his face as his nose began to itch. Not so much an itch, the very small part of rational thinking Draco had left told him, but a burn. 

He’d burnt his insides- his nose with the drugs, his throat with the vomit, and his stomach through lack of food therefore giving it nothing to do with the acids but eat away at itself. Burnt insides and scarred outsides, perhaps not so far from death and he wasn’t scared. He wanted to do another line, wanted to rip open his veins and pour himself out from the inside.

This is what he needed. The burning. The pain. The slicing. The pain. The warmth of his own blood sticking his shirt to his chest. He needed to be alone; this way there was no need to feign civility, no need to worry about losing those he loved. There was only him and the pain and the drugs. It was all he needed.

Wasn’t it?

Yes it was. He tossed the glass aside and tripped over himself in an attempt to get to the desk where his drugs sat. He placed his straw at his nostril and followed up the second line of powder. Then came the sickness but he swallowed, once, twice, thrice, before it gave way to a debilitating cramp in his stomach.

He doubled over, groaning as it felt like his insides were being twisted and compressed in a spiked vice. The sting of his arm had faded to a dull throb already. Draco pulled himself from the chair, staggering blindly into a desk that fell apart beneath his weight. 

He managed to hold himself up, thankful that the pain in his arm would soon replace the pain in his abdomen. Bending over he snatched up the first bit of glass he could find. Before he could put it to his arm it felt like his nose was in flames.

Draco dropped the shard of glass from his hand as he felt a warm liquid pouring quickly over his mouth. He lifted his hand to beneath his nose. Pulling it away and holding it to the pale moonlight flooding in the hole where previously had been a window, he saw the unmistakeable dark colour of blood. The door swung open and closed again and Draco looked up before he could process what was happening to his body… what he had done… what was likely to happen to him. 

He was met with the sight of his father standing beside the drug-covered desk.

Lucius’ face dropped and his silver eyes went wide when he saw the state his son was in. Had anyone else been in the room they would have sworn they heard the shatter of the mask Lucius normally hid behind. Draco’s hands trembled as his eyes flicked between his fathers face and the blood covering his fingertips, his heart thudding painfully in his tightening chest.

“Daddy?” He whispered in a quiet voice. Lucius made to go towards his son but before he had gotten even a few paces forward, Draco had fled across the room and thrown his arms around his neck, knocking them both to the floor.

Draco squirmed to get onto Lucius’ lap as they both sat on the floor. The younger Malfoy placed both hands on either side of his father’s face and began trailing soft, desperate kisses across Lucius’ forehead, leaving a path of blood in his wake.

“I need you, daddy!” Draco whimpered as he kissed down Lucius’ left cheek. “I’m sorry, daddy, I do need you… I do need you, daddy!” Draco was now frantically kissing every inch of Lucius’ face that he could reach.

Lucius sat bewildered at his son’s whimpered words, too busy wondering what on earth had happened to provoke such a dramatic response from both Draco and Severus, to react properly.

Draco was repeatedly landing soft kisses on Lucius mouth, continuing to whisper against the soft lips. Lucius finally snapped out of his shock and wrapped both arms tightly around his son, pulling Draco’s face into his neck and hushing him softly.

“It’s okay dragon- I’ve got you… daddy’s got you.” He whispered into Draco’s ear. The sent of his only son’s blood filled his senses as he held the boy tightly, rocking him almost fervently.

At his father’s words Draco’s entire body gave way to shuddering sobs as over a months worth of pent up anger, frustration, hatred and fear spilled in hot rivers down his cheeks. The excess of drugs pulled every little thing he felt to the surface and somewhere in his near-overdosing daze; Draco knew he had lost control. He knew that he had failed his Lord. He knew he had failed Severus. Above all else he knew he had failed his father.

“I’m sorry, daddy… I’m so sorry.” Draco sobbed into Lucius’ neck, the collar of the older Malfoy’s robes growing damp with tears and blood. “I’m so sorry, daddy… I love you, daddy.” 

Lucius hushed him again, rocking him slowly back and forward. He ran a hand soothingly up Draco’s back as the other stroked through blood stained hair.

Lucius placed a succession of kisses on the top of Draco’s head, blinking once against the burning in his eyes and causing a single tear to slip down his own cheek. He should have known… should have seen that his only son, the one thing he loved more than words could ever express, was slowly killing himself. He wrapped his arms more securely around Draco and held him as tight as he could manage without hurting the boy. Lucius nuzzled his face into Draco’s hair as the boy’s body gave up on tears and reduced itself to dry, racking sobs.

“No,” Lucius said quietly, his voice sounding hoarse, “ _I’m_ sorry, my little dragon.”

\- - -

**To Be Continued…?**   
_A/N: Thanks go to everyone who reviewed the last chapter. I did say that Draco had a bit further to fall but he is at the bottom now. The warning of subconscious suicide is there because CS and I both felt that on some level Draco was really trying to end his life here. Like we have both said, we end up very involved in our characters psyches therefore I’m going to go sob in a darkened corner and rock back and forth for a few hours._  
Take care sweethearts,  
Aurora Enkeli Medeis a.k.a. Emotional Wreck 

\- - -


	23. Chapter XXIII

  
Author's notes: "You're beyond now- redemption, and no one's going to catch you when you fall." Harry’s back at Hogwarts. His allegiances are wavering. It’s only a matter of time… [Slash, self-harm, eating disorders, drug use…]  


* * *

** Beyond Redemption **   
_By Sisters of Darkness_

\- - -

For this Chapter:

**Rating(s)** : NC-17.  
 **Pairing(s)** : Severus Snape/ Voldemort.  
 **Warning(s)** : Mentions of Solvent Abuse; Abuse (in general).

\- - -

**Chapter XXIII**   
_By CS WhiteWolf_

**A** wareness came to him quickly and painfully as he struggled against the compressive ache of his chest as he took in his first conscious breath. His throat, raw and blistered smarted with every draw of air he dared to take. But none of that mattered as he struggled to sit up, his mind spinning incoherently as he tried to make sense of his situation.

His memories from the night before caught up with him in one large slam against his temples, wrenching the smallest of cries from his mouth as his hands shot to his head, clawing at the ache, trying to tear through and make it stop. 

Hands suddenly grabbed at his own pulling his clawed fingers from their ripping and tearing. In fear of the unknown he struggled against the restraining force, self-preservation forcing him to lash out vehemently until he heard the sibilant hiss of his name upon the lips of the one restricting him. 

Severus froze in his movements, his body falling suddenly limp as he turned openly fearful eyes to meet with the burning crimson of Voldemort’s. 

“My Lord,” he choked out, uncaring at the pain it caused him to speak, even as he felt the muscles of his throat rubbing together, the freshly healing wounds breaking open once more. 

“I’m disappointed, Severus.” Voldemort released his grip on the Severus’ wrists, the skin reddened from the tightness of his grip. 

“My Lord, I-” 

Voldemort held up one pale, long fingered hand, indicating for Severus to keep his words to himself. The Dark Lord settled back against the chair he was seated upon, straightening out his immaculately tailored robes as he crossed his legs at the knee. He clasped his hands together before once more turning his attention to the man before him. 

Severus’ head was pounding with all the more intensity; he felt blood trickling down the back of his throat, and forced himself to resist the almost overwhelming urge to both swallow and cough, knowing that neither would be beneficial to his condition at the moment. 

He struggled on shaking arms to prop himself up against his pillows, all the while Voldemort’s heated gaze watched him, glittering in sadistic pleasure at Severus’ pain, revelling in the moment until he deigned it worth his while to raise his pale hand once again and indicate the potions bottles placed upon the side table. 

“For your throat, your head, and the nausea you will experience after drinking those two.” His pale features were set in their usual haughty mask, long dark hair framing the seemingly sharpened angles of Voldemort’s face, a face- and body- that had been reconstructed from the scaly, reptilian creature Wormtail had resurrected, to this godly vision of cruel beauty before him.

Severus gingerly reached for the potions, his hands shaking as he lifted the first one to his nose intending to sniff at it and detect it’s contents and purpose- the colour alone not enough to convince him of the potion’s true intention. 

Voldemort’s hand shot out once more, stopping his movement. 

“Either drink it, or don’t.” his eyes burned into Severus’ own as the Potion’s Master pressed his lips together in silent defiance. Voldemort released him, settling back in his seat once more with a slight lifting of his shoulders, indicating a shrug. 

“I am surprised, Severus,” Began the Dark Lord in a conversation tone, “That you have not yet noticed the damage done to your nose, I hardly think sniffing anymore potions is likely to help you at the moment.” 

Severus cringed slightly, feeling a blush creep up his neck to stain at his sallow cheeks, giving him a rather unhealthy look. He turned his head away, lank locks of hair falling forward to hide his face, eyes focussed fixedly upon the bottle in his hands. It was not that he doubted the potions authenticity, he could tell just by the very consistence, the very colour of the potion that it was one he had himself brewed for the Malfoy family stocks, habit however had him itching to sniff at the insipid liquid. 

The dull, grey-tinted potion sloshed against the sides of the glass as his hands trembled. He tensed the protesting muscles of his arms in order to still the shakes and regain some semblance of control over himself. He knew he needed the potion. It wasn’t just a matter of wanting it. He felt the aches and pains intensifying the longer he held back until his eyes watered with pain and still he could not bring himself to drink down the potion without confirming its purpose himself. 

The mattress beside him dipped as somebody seated themselves beside him. Severus’ head immediately shot up, his eyes widening as he found Voldemort’s face but inches away from his own. 

The Dark Lord’s eyes looked absorbedly into Severus’ own obsidian gaze, a long-fingered hand lifting to touch almost reverently at the Potions Master’s cheek, touching and stroking at the flushed skin until Severus was leaning into his touch, rubbing his face against the cool skin of Voldemort’s palm. 

Voldemort leaned in, his mouth hovering momentarily above Severus’ own, hot breath tickling at the man’s oversensitive lips until Severus could not help but lean up and press their lips together. The Dark Lord took control of the kiss immediately, using it to lay his claim and stake his dominance over the young man beside him. 

Their lips pressed hard against the others, moving furiously with sharp motions and brutal nips until Severus moaned in both pain and desire, his mouth opening to gasp for breath but to no avail as he found his blistered mouth attacked by the forked tongue of Voldemort, its very presence in his mouth forcing him to submit fully into the kiss, uncaring as less and less oxygen made its way to his lungs. Even as spots of colour danced before his eyes and he felt the haziness of unconsciousness slowly grasping ahold of him, he made no move to pull away. 

He felt a hand slip up the back of his neck, tangling in his hair and gripping tightly, almost painfully before Voldemort wrenched their mouths apart with an angry hiss, 

“Your recent behaviour notwithstanding, you must learn to trust us, Severus!” The Dark Lord practically growled at the half-lidded, gasping man before him, tugging his head back forcefully and taking the potion bottle from slacked fingers he tipped its contents unceremoniously down Severus’ throat, placing his hand over both mouth and nose until the choking man swallowed the liquid back. 

Voldemort repeated this motion twice more before slowly untwining his fingers from Severus’ oily locks, once again gentle fingers touching at the younger man’s face, almost timidly wiping at the tears which had spilled from Severus’ eyes during his ministrations. Pressing light kisses to the man’s forehead, he tenderly pushed him back down onto the bed, tugging the covers up to Severus’ chin. 

The Potions Master had had a right to be suspicious. The anti-nausea potion had been laced with both a calming and a sleeping draught. 

“Sleep, Severus,” The now-loving murmur of Voldemort’s voice carried Severus out into the blissfulness of sleep once more.

\- - -

When next Severus awoke, it was with less pain and more of his wits about him. Voldemort was still seated beside his bed, watching him unblinkingly with more of a green tinge to his crimson eyes. Severus found himself automatically relaxing in the presence of his master and lover, taking the change of eye colour to mean that Voldemort was in a slightly more forgiving mood than when Severus had first awoken. 

He pulled himself up with more ease than he’d managed before, taking a moment to relish in the ability to breathe with only the most minor of twinges to his throat. He touched tenderly at his nose, feeling it to be lightly coated with an odourless balm of some sort. His eyes shot to the bedside table upon which sat a jar of healing cream, the very one he’d created in order to soothe the rashes his solvent abuse caused him. 

He looked up at the long, dark haired man beside him once more, realising that the Dark Lord must have applied it to him. He felt a slight warmth brewing in his belly at the thought.

“My Lord,” he greeted softly, his throat hurting minutely at the motion but otherwise feeling fine.

Voldemort’s eyes flickered over Severus’ dishevelled appearance, taking note of everything from the minor shake in his hands to the dilated appearance of his pupils. He remained silent for a long moment before deigning to speak. 

“I trust you are feeling well, Severus?” 

“Yes. Much better, My Lord,” Severus responded, his hands twisting a little in his blankets. 

Silence descended over them, though Severus could not quite distinguish as to whether it was an uncomfortable one or not. He dipped his head, his hair falling forward to hide his face once more in a protective manoeuvre he’d been using for years. 

“Do you want to tell me about it?” Voldemort asked.

Severus shook his head. His hands clenching in the covers as he thought ashamedly about his loss of control. 

“I’d rather not, My Lord.” He replied after a while.

“ _I’d_ rather you did, Severus.” Voldemort responded.

The Potions Master looked up to meet Voldemort’s eyes briefly, seeing the set and serious expectation reflected in the reddening orbs. 

“I don’t know what to say,” He mumbled, his heart begin to hasten in its beating against his ribs, a bubbling threads of panic starting up from within him.

“How about you start with a reason as to why both Draco and yourself ended up in the states you were found in?” 

Severus tensed visibly, his eyes widening, lips parting in a silent gasp as he mouthed the Slytherin Prince’s name. Images of Draco slicing his hand up then storming off in a rage filled his mind until he was breathing hard with the fear of what the young blond had done whilst in his destructive state of mind. 

“How is he? Is Draco alright? I didn’t think- I, he…” Severus flicked his covers back, standing to his feet hurriedly, pausing only to gain his bearings as a wave of dizziness came over him before he made move to leave the room in search of the blond boy. 

Voldemort stepped before him, blocking the route from the room as he gripped Severus’ upper arms in his vice-like hold. 

“And just where do you think you are going?” Voldemort’s eyes flashed crimson-red, forcing Severus to flinch back slightly before they settling back to their current green-flecked state. 

Voldemort took a step closer to Severus, tugging the younger man closer towards him so as to prevent the Potions Master from backing away. 

“Please, My Lord,” Severus pleaded.

Voldemort’s lips curved upwards in a darkened smirk, he released one of Severus’ arms, lifting his hand to touch at the younger man’s mouth, tracing the thin lips with the tips of his fingers before tugging Severus’ bottom lip down and leaning in to flick his tongue against the partly opened mouth. 

“You should not be out of bed,” Voldemort mumbled, his breath ghosting Severus’ mouth. 

“I must see Draco,” Severus returned, his breath hitching.

Voldemort pressed more fully against Severus’ mouth, his lips moving softly against Severus’ chapped ones. 

“Draco is fine,” came the reply as Voldemort pulled back somewhat.

Severus moaned in distress, raising his hands to Voldemort’s chest, his fingers gripping at the front of the Dark Lord’s robes, pulling him closer. 

“I must see him,” Severus murmured, pushing his mouth against his lover’s, willingly opening his mouth to admit Voldemort’s questing tongue. The kiss became heated rather quickly and Severus found himself slipping his arms up and around Voldemort’s neck, pressing his body tightly against the Dark Lord’s, craving the contact of another body for the first time in a long while. 

Voldemort ran his hands up and down Severus’ arms before slipping around the thin waist and rubbing at Severus’ back, tugging their hips together. Severus’ whimpered at the Dark Lord’s ministrations, knowing that the sheer force of the kiss would bruise his lips. He did not care, pressing himself against that mouth, meeting his tongue to his master’s… his lover’s… 

“Voldemort…” he groaned out, his body shivering at the Dark Lord’s touch, whimpering slightly when Voldemort slowly pulled out of the kiss. 

Severus opened his eyes, finding Voldemort watching him with a suddenly softened look in his eyes. 

“Why must you see him?” he asked.

“Because it’s my fault,”

“You will explain that.” Voldemort promised.

Severus nodded his head, watching as Voldemort returned the gesture before stepping away from the Potion’s Master. 

“He’s in his room.” Voldemort said, raising his hand to carelessly gesture Severus out the door. 

“Thank you,” Voldemort made no acknowledgment of Severus’ words as he swept from the room himself, heading in the opposite direction from the youngest Malfoy’s chambers. 

Severus rubbed at his eyes, his shoulders slumping as he dragged a hand down his face before starting out towards Draco’s rooms. He only prayed that the young blond was all right and not in any serious harm. His heartbeat sped up the closer he got to his destination, his breathing becoming shallow as he feared what he would find- knowing that whatever state the Slytherin was in, it would be because of him, because he had failed Draco. It would be his fault. 

He knocked once at the double oak doors before opening them and stepping into the emerald green and dark-panelled room, his eyes immediately focussing upon the small boy on the large, ornate bed. Draco was almost as pale as the white continental pillow he lay upon. 

Severus rushed over to the boy’s side, sitting beside him on the bed and taking the pasty and limp hand in his own, his other reaching out to touch at Draco’s unnaturally cool cheeks. But the slow rise and fall of his chest as well as the fluttering movements behind his eyelids let Severus know that all was not lost.

He sighed only a little as he took in the rest of Draco’s appearance, the dark smudge of eyelashes against his pale face did nothing to deter from the large purpling bags beneath the boy’s eyes; his nose slightly swollen, a reddened tinge beneath it suggesting copious amounts of blood to have been in the area. He turned Draco’s arms gently, seeing the bandages wrapped firmly across them. 

All this because of him. And he had had the audacity to overdose on his bloody potions when Draco had needed someone to be there for him. No matter what the blond boy had said to him, Severus should have seen past that, should have seen the plea behind the words. But his own self-obsession over his past had prevented him from doing do. 

He raised Draco’s hand to his lips, pressing a tight kiss to the bruised knuckles. 

“I’m sorry, little snake,” he whispered, his voice choking up. “I’m so sorry for failing you, again, and again. It’s like I can’t get anything right. Not with you. Not with the Inner Circle. I try so hard, but it never feels like enough,” 

He stroked Draco’s cheek, blinking back the moisture from his eyes as he watched the sleeping boy, safe in the knowledge that his words would not be heard. 

“You must hate me so. I couldn’t blame you if you did. After all this pain I’ve caused you…” 

“Severus,” The dark-haired man froze, turning slowly to find Narcissa Malfoy standing just outside the entrance to Draco’s en-suite. 

“How,” he swallowed thickly, “How long have you been standing there?”

Narcissa moved into the room, walking over to Severus and seating herself next to him, taking his hand in her own. 

“Long enough,” She replied eventually, squeezing Severus’ hand as the man tensed further. 

“He doesn’t hate you, Severus.” 

Severus turned his head away, looking at the boy on the bed and finding himself unable to even comprehend how he could not. 

“He doesn’t,” Narcissa emphasised, cupping Severus’ face and turning it until their eyes met. “He awoke earlier, Severus. He was in quite the state, calling for you and his daddy. It was all Lucius could do to calm him. He seemed to think he might have said something to hurt you?” 

Severus pulled his head back from Narcissa’s hand, turning back to look at Draco, at the frail-looking boy upon the bed. The very same boy who’d insisted he deserved all that had happened to him in his lifetime. Yet Severus could not fault him for that. He couldn’t only fault himself for the way he, himself, had reacted to it. 

Narcissa tucked his hair behind his ear, pressing a soft kiss to his temple. “Come, Severus,” She said sympathetically, “You should not be up yet. You had us all terribly worried about you, you know.” 

“About me?” Severus turned his attention to the woman beside him once more. 

Narcissa’s eyes darkened slightly, “You stopped breathing, Severus,” 

Severus looked at Narcissa in shock, barely having time to process her words before the door to Draco’s rooms opened once more to admit Lucius Malfoy- one extremely angry looking, Lucius Malfoy. 

Severus scrambled hurriedly to his feet, blinking away the dizziness that overwhelmed him at the sudden movement, backing away as the livid blond approached him. Narcissa stood smoothly, placing a restraining arm on Lucius’ arm before anything could develop between the two men. 

“My study, now,” the blond man hissed between his teeth, spinning forcefully on his heel and storming from the room. Severus watched him leave with more than a little trepidation, his eyes meeting with Voldemort’s whom stood casually against the doorframe. 

“How is he, Narcissa?” Voldemort entered the room, giving his attention wholly onto boy and mother both. Narcissa gave Severus a tight smile before turning to the Dark Lord.

Severus hesitated, biting his lip in indecision before straightening himself and walking from the room. Refusing to look back and see Draco’s state. His eyes began to itch and he raised his arms, rubbing at them with the heels of his hands, pressing in until the black and white spots danced before his vision. 

He dragged his hand down his face and kept walking, rubbing lightly at his nose as he slowly made his way down the halls, dreading the confrontation to be had with the elder Malfoy. A Malfoy seriously pissed at him, no doubt because he’d failed in his responsibility to protect his only son. 

“Come in, Severus,”

Severus hesitated, having only just reached Lucius’ study, not even having raised his hand to chap the slightly parted door. He stepped forward, pushing the door open and walking into the room. 

“Close it behind you.” Lucius said softly, his back to Severus, who obeyed the command only because he did not wish to displease the blond further. 

As soon as the door clicked closed Lucius had spun towards him with such fury in his gaze that Severus found himself involuntarily stepping backwards, his back colliding with the door behind him. 

“What the hell were you thinking?” Lucius hissed vehemently, “Have you no thought as to what it would do to all of us should you have died?” 

Severus swallowed heavily, “Lucius…” he began, his voice strangled with emotion, “I didn’t mean- I didn’t think… if I’d have known what he would have done…”

“He?” Lucius interrupted him. “I’m talking about _you_ , Severus, not Draco- though we will talk about him later.” He turned eyes of molten silver to stare into Severus’ own. “What were you thinking, Severus? Were you _trying_ to kill yourself?”

“I- Lucius…” Severus shook his head, “No, no I wasn’t! I didn’t mean for this to happen. I mean only to… to give myself something to do until… until I could go after Draco,” 

Lucius gripped at Severus’ chin. “Are you sure you did not mean for this to happen?”

“What?” Severus pushed Lucius from him. “How could you think that, Lucius? I want Draco to be lying in that bed looking like death himself just as much as you do, I-”

“No, Severus!” Lucius raised his voice, “Not, Draco. I’m talking about you!” his face softened drastically, he raised his hands to cup Severus’ face. “I’m talking about you.”

Severus’ swallowed thickly. His throat was beginning to hurt and his mouth was dry, his tongue thick and heavy in his mouth. 

“Did you mean to go so far, Severus? _Why_ did you go so far? You nearly _died_ , Sev, Draco damn well could have died if you’d not gotten here when you did.”

Severus remained silent, unable to form any response to Lucius’ words for a long while. 

“I’m sorry, Luc,” He whispered. “I didn’t honestly mean for things to get so out of hand.” His eyes took on a glazed look as he though over the interaction between himself and Draco- able now to see the disintegration of their relationship happening in slow motion, but knowing that he was too late now to do anything to prevent it. 

Lucius touched at his face, breaking Severus from his thoughts. “What happened, Severus?”

Severus turned his eyes to focus back on the blond before him. “I don’t know, Lucius. I really don’t know.”

And he didn’t. For though he could see before his minds eye all that had contributed to the states Draco and himself had ended up in, he just didn’t know how he could not have see it all before, how he could not have prevented it all from happening. 

He gave Lucius a tight smile, which looked more like a grimace to the blond aristocrat. 

“He’ll be alright, Severus.” 

Severus nodded though he wasn’t sure if he believed Lucius or not. Lucius sighed heavily, touching his fingers to his temples.

“Will you be alright?” 

“Me?”

“Yes you, Severus. We’re worried about you too.” 

Severus blinked at him. “I’m fine, Lucius. This will not happen again.”

“You said that the last time, Sev,” 

Severus gave Lucius a sharp and wounded look. 

“It won’t happen again.” He repeated firmly. 

Lucius gave a tight nod of his head. “Very well.” He stepped back from Severus, allowing the man his space. “I would that you return to your chambers, there are more potions there for you to take.”

“Very well,” They stood, watching each other in silence for a long moment, an expectancy hanging over both of them. Eventually Severus tilted his head, bidding the blond a silent goodbye before leaving the room. 

Lucius moved over to his desk, collapsing into the plush chair and picking up the shot of firewhisky he’d poured before Severus arrived. He drank the liquid back, barely grimacing as it burnt its way down his throat. 

Then he poured another one, and wondered just what on earth was going on between Severus and Draco. 

\- - -

**To Be Continued…?**   
_A/N: We cannot tell you how much we appreciate the continued feedback everyone has been leaving us for BR, and hope that you’ll stay with us as we progress with the story. You guys give us the courage to stick with this story and continue updating as frequently as we do, because lets face it, without you guys there probably wouldn’t be a story- and how dreadful would that be!?_  
Now because you’ve all been such great sports (hehe) Aurora and I have a special surprise for you guys which will be posted once we’ve reached 100 reviews (only two more to go! ::squee::) So mind in look out for a certain pair of BR side-stories, written as a huge thank you to everyone who is reading, but in particular to those of you who are reviewing!   
Please do review this chapter people! You’ve been introduced to a side of Severus you’ve only ever really glimpsed before, how did you find him? Don’t panic if you didn’t particularly like how ‘out of sorts’ Severus was, he’ll recover soon enough! You’ve also had Voldemort’s first appearance in BR- how did you find him? Was he believable? Too hard-hearted? I know Aurora is already in love with BR!Voldemort, but we would love to know what everyone else thinks!  
Peace,  
Sister of Darkness,  
CS WhiteWolf 

\- - -


	24. Chapter XXIV

  
Author's notes: "You're beyond now- redemption, and no one's going to catch you when you fall." Harry’s back at Hogwarts. His allegiances are wavering. It’s only a matter of time… [Slash, self-harm, eating disorders, drug use…]  


* * *

** Beyond Redemption **   
_By Sisters of Darkness_

\- - -

For this Chapter:

**Rating(s)** : R/NC-17.  
 **Pairing(s)** : Slight Draco Malfoy/Lucius Malfoy.  
 **Warning(s)** : Mentions of Drug Use; Mentions of Self-Harm; Hints of a Suicidal Theme.

\- - -

**Chapter XXIV**   
_By Aurora Enkeli Medeis_

**I** t was almost like floating; Draco’s subconscious stream of thought began, floating in a vast darkness while still being extremely heavy. He was alone here; aware of pain in his head, his nose, his limbs and anywhere else that was attached but not exactly feeling it. Then there was a dull throbbing, a painless sting on his forearm. This was odd, he mused as the pain began to register in his brain, the last thing he remembered was darkness, a blissful black where he had most wanted to remain.

Conscious thought began to come into play in the form of a very slow blink, which hurt far more than it should have. Another blink let in a brief flicker of light. It also hurt. Somewhere in his mind he had a sense of déjà vu, convinced he had already been though the agony of waking up.

Then he remembered. For the second time that day the memories of why he was wherever he was in the state he was in hit him like a pair of particularly nasty bludgers. There had been blood, a lot of blood, too much blood. There had been cocaine, inhuman quantities of it on tables, on his hands, in his nose. 

Why though? A voice was wondering in his mind, a logical voice, a Severus like voice… oh gods that was why he was here. Everything he had said, everything he had done. Where was Severus now? Draco hadn’t meant it, had momentarily forgotten what Severus may do when reminded of his past. 

Draco tried to open his eyes but the light was too much. He tried to move his head but it felt so heavy on his neck. With brute force and determination he turned it on the pillow. Pillow? How had he ended up on a pillow? There had been the room in a tower, dusty and cold, a smashed window, stonewalls and… his father. Yes that was how his thought process had gone earlier- Lucius finding him, needing Lucius, needing Severus, needing the Inner Circle. 

Draco’s thoughts began to get away from him, he groaned as he tried to pull himself up but winced as he felt the deep slices in his arms shifting beneath bandages. A hand cupped around his shoulder, forcing him back to the softness of the pillow.

“Daddy?” He choked, voice no more than a whisper, “Severus?” he could hear a voice responding but he couldn’t decipher the words. “Sev?” He called again.

“No, little dragon.” That voice, the low, luxuriously seductive tone, quickly woke Draco up. He forced his eyes open, knowing whom it was he was about to see.

“My Lord.” He croaked, eyes falling to the man beside him. Green flecked eyes were watching him struggle to awaken fully, the smallest hint of sadistic pleasure just visible on the sharply chiselled face. Draco knew he was in trouble now. The Dark Lord knew that Draco had not been doing as asked, knew how he had treated Severus and knew how very out of control the blond had become.

“You have not been doing as was asked of you, little one.” Voldemort stated, his tone deceptively blasé. Draco knew he could not lie. He swallowed hard before replying.

“No, my Lord.” The pain in Draco’s body seemed to be worsening with every breath he took. He had spotted potions on his bedside table out the corner of his eye but didn’t dare make a move to reach for them.

“I do not take kindly to disobedience.” Voldemort’s eyes were shifting slowly to a deep crimson colour and Draco noticeably flinched, “take your potions,” the Dark Lord instructed, “I’m assuming that is an instruction you can follow.”

Draco winced both in pain and at the sharp comment as he reached for the vials. One he recognized as a pain reliever the other as a nutritional potion; the third however was completely unfamiliar. He eyed the violet liquid warily.

“You caused a lot of damage to your nose with your _exploits_.” Voldemort explained. Draco nodded meekly and swallowed it down, following it quickly with the painkiller and the nutritional potion. They burned the back of his throat, the tastes mixing together to form some awful cocktail.

“Severus… how is Severus?” Draco ventured to question, noticing with a little relief the way the Dark Lord’s eyes grew somewhat greener at the question.

“He will be fine. Your mother, in fact, just left to check on him.” Voldemort’s eyes grew crimson once more, “why would you think to defy me? Defy the Inner Circle? When we accepted you so willingly into our ranks.”

Draco closed his eyes, taking several deep breaths before looking up at the ceiling above him. He had failed them all, Severus, Voldemort, his father, taken it all for granted and tossed it all away. Thoughts of being cast from the Inner Circle flitted across Draco’s mind and he felt panic rising in his chest. He couldn’t lose them, without them he had nothing… no one.

His fear must have shown as a hand was placed on his arm, the cool palm feeling wonderful against the bandaged skin.

“Explain to me what happened last night.” Draco pressed his eyes together tightly, “Now Draco.” Voldemort snapped, anger and annoyance coming through in his voice. Draco rubbed his eyes fiercely until the Dark Lord yanked his hands away, fingers gripping Draco’s wrists harder than required. 

“I had detention with Potter, I began slicing my finger, I said something to Severus I shouldn’t have and…” He trailed off; sure that Severus must hate him and convinced that he was being blamed for all that had occurred.

“And then you were both found in similar states.” Voldemort finished for him. Draco nodded again, not meeting the Dark Lord’s gaze. “Now you will explain to me your unwillingness to aid the task of converting Potter.”

Draco could feel a familiar anger building in the pit of his stomach at the mere mention of Potter’s name but he couldn’t let it show. Not in front of the Dark Lord. He tried to think of a way to explain his actions but he couldn’t. Had he really be justified in his treatment of Potter? Of course he had been, he realised quickly, Potter was the one trying to worm his way into the Inner Circle, sucking on the love that they held for each other like a famished parasite.

“The Inner Circle is no place for pathetic schoolyard rivalries.” Voldemort stated, voice low and dangerous. Draco’s eyes flew to Voldemort’s, finding them burning red, “I gave you your place inside the Inner Circle based on praise from your father and Severus but perhaps I was wrong to trust them.”

Draco could do nothing to hide the fear on his face. His expression fell, eyes closing over slowly. He was going to be cast out but didn’t he deserve it? He’d failed them all. His father would be disappointed in him. Severus would hate him for what he said. Alone. He would be alone. The double doors of Draco’s bedroom swung open but the blond kept his eyes shut, not wanting to see another angry face. He felt Voldemort standing from the chair, vaguely hearing the adjusting of robes.

“Lucius, your son will be punished should he go against my orders again.” The Dark Lord said as he made his way across the room.

“Yes, my Lord.” The older Malfoy responded, subtly eyeing the deep crimson of Voldemort’s eyes and the obviously emotional state of his son. With well-practiced ease he hid the narrowing of his eyes, not wanting to show any disloyalty to an already angered Dark Lord.

Voldemort swept past Lucius and paused in the doorway.

“I will bid my farewell to Narcissa before I leave.” Lucius gave him a small bow of his head before Voldemort turned on his heel and stormed off down the corridor. Lucius closed the doors softly and, as soon as he heard them click shut, Draco tried his best to scramble up from the mattress.

“I want to see Severus, please father.” With a few long strides Lucius was beside the bed, easing Draco back down.

“Draco, calm down.” He hushed as he sat on the bed beside his son, “Severus is fine but I fear I will not be able to say the same of you if you will not rest.” Lucius wrapped an arm around Draco’s shoulder, pulling him softly into his chest.

“The Dark Lord is angry with me.” Draco said, his voice quiet.

“Yes he is, dragon.” Lucius replied, fingers running soothingly through his son’s blond hair, long since cleaned of the bloodstains his actions had left.

“I have failed you father.” The younger Malfoy whispered. Lucius sighed; placing several light kisses on the top of his son’s head before speaking again.

“What happened in the dungeons between you and Severus? I can’t seem to get a straight answer from him.” He continued stroking Draco’s hair.

Draco let his eyes fall shut. He knew why his father had changed the conversation- he didn’t want to come right out and say that yes, Draco had failed him.

“I lost control and said something I knew would hurt him… because I wanted him to hurt.” The last part was said so quietly that Lucius barely heard it. He wrapped another arm around Draco, shifting so that he was lying next to his son on the bed. “He must hate me.”

“Severus does not hate you. He seems to think it will be you who hates him but no, he loves you still.” Lucius reassured him, lips drifting over his son’s forehead as Draco shifted onto his side and settled one leg between Lucius’. 

The doors opened again, quietly this time, shutting with a soft click. Draco inclined his head slightly to see his mother coming across the room. Narcissa sat gracefully down on the other side of Draco, legs tucked beneath her on the mattress. Draco shifted again, loosening himself from his father’s grip a little in order to lie evenly between both parents.

“You gave us quite the scare, little dragon.” Narcissa said softy, slender fingers running down Draco’s deathly pale cheek as Lucius sat up slightly. Draco averted his eyes, picking at the edge of one of his bandages. Lucius’ arm slid across his waist, hand clasping itself around Draco’s to stop the nervous gesture.

“Why would you try to kill yourself, Draco?” Lucius asked, his lips not far from Draco’s ear.

Draco’s eyes went wide and he tried to sit up but to no avail. He turned to look at Lucius, even the small motion causing him terrible pains in his neck.

“I didn’t try to kill myself!” He all but spluttered indignantly. Unseen by Draco, Lucius and Narcissa shared a questioning look over the top of their son’s head.

“Draco,” Lucius began, stroking strands of blond hair from Draco’s face, “no one could inhale as much cocaine as you did without meaning to kill themselves.” 

“I wasn’t trying to! I… I took more because I wasn’t having any reaction but… I wasn’t trying to kill myself.” He stated again. Lucius frowned across at Narcissa who was looking back worriedly.

“You know you caused yourself a lot of damage? But it looks like you have already taken the potion for that.” Narcissa said, eyes flicking over to the empty vials on the bedside table. Draco’s hand subconsciously brought itself to his nose, rubbing at the bridge and wincing slightly.

“The drugs will have to stop, Draco.” Lucius ordered, his tone slightly harsher than it had been up until that point. “Did you stop to think what it would have done to us should you have died?” Draco closed his eyes tightly against his father’s words, feeling his mother’s arms wrapping around him. He was pulled against her, the comforting floral musk of her perfume flooding his senses.

“Lucius,” She said, her tone still soft but with a bite of warning, “he does not need this just now.”

Lucius narrowed his eyes at his wife. He knew she was right of course but coddling the boy would not get the message into him. Lucius knew well that the best way to discipline Draco was to drive some semblance of fear into him. Fear commanded respect after all.

“Nevertheless, the drugs _will_ stop.” Lucius reiterated, “I will not lose you.” He added, his voice considerably softer.

“Yes, father.” Draco mumbled against the soft fabric if his mother’s robes. Lucius slid across the mattress, pressing himself to Draco’s back and planting a kiss on the back of his head before turning his attention on his wife.

“How is Severus?” Lucius asked, feeling Draco noticeably tense as he waited for a response.

“He is asleep again. The potion he took should last another few hours.” Narcissa replied, pressing soft lips to Draco’s forehead, “He’ll want to see you when he is awake dragon, he was here earlier but you were still asleep.”

Draco nodded, feeling calmed by his mother’s words. Lucius ran his fingers lightly up and down Draco’s bare forearm where it was resting over Narcissa’s hip. He gave his wife a small smile over Draco’s head, somewhat amazed at how she seemed to say exactly what Lucius had told Draco yet she was the one who got him to relax.

“We will leave you to rest now, Draco.” Narcissa said as she detached herself from her son, placing a light kiss on his cheek before standing from the bed. As she was smoothing the creases from her robes, Lucius wrapped his arms around Draco, brushing loose strands of hair from his neck. He pressed his lips softly to the curve of his son’s neck, leaving a lingering kiss there before placing another one across his ear.

“Sleep well, little dragon.” Lucius said quietly. Draco turned his head as best as he could, catching Lucius’ bottom lip in his. He kissed it softly.

“I’m sorry, daddy.” He whispered against his father’s mouth, grazing his lips over Lucius’ before settling himself down on the pillow. He closed his eyes softly; missing the small smile Lucius was giving him as he stood from the bed. 

The older Malfoy crossed the room, meeting his wife at the door. As they looked back at the fragile looking form of their son, Lucius noticed the saddened look upon Narcissa’s face and wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her close as they left the room. 

Draco lay still on the mattress, listening to the door click shut and his parent’s footsteps fading away. When he was sure they were far enough from his room to guarantee they would not be back for a good length of time he pushed the covers off, ignoring the shooting pains in his neck as he sat up quickly on his bed. He swung his legs over the side of the mattress, head spinning slightly as he pulled himself to his feet. 

No more drugs- that is what his father had said. At that present moment in time Draco was sure he did not need a hit, his stomach turned at the mere thought of it. However, he knew he would not last long and what would he do when he needed to feel the high? Needed the release the wonder of the white powder gave him? 

They would take his stash, he knew that but they didn’t know about his necklace. Did they? He stumbled to the dressing table, searching until he found the silver snake pendant. Unscrewing it, Draco let out a sigh of relief when he saw there was still some inside. They would have his stash from school now however and the cocaine in the snake would not last him long.

He made his way to his bedroom’s en-suite bathroom, holding himself up on the doorframe as a wave of dizziness over came him. Shaking it off, he dropped to his knees beside the sink, reaching around to press at a tile behind it. The tile slid to the side, revealing a small door of a muggle safe. It would have seemed strange, Draco realised, for a Malfoy to have a muggle device but it was the one thing he could be sure that, if in the most unlikely event his parents did find it, they would never be able to open it.

There were several charms on the door that would only allow someone with Draco’s magical signature to touch it. Draco had to smirk at his own brilliance. He turned the handle twice anti-clockwise to the number forty and then clockwise to the number five and the door opened slowly. Inside sat a bag of cocaine, considerably larger than the one he had at Hogwarts. Draco smiled, closing the safe back over and locking it before sliding the tile back into place. 

He stood gingerly from the floor, the agony of his neck still almost unbearable. He walked slowly back into his bedroom, lowering himself onto the mattress and pulling the covers up around his shoulders, careful not to disturb his bandages.

As his eyes drifted shut and he felt himself becoming drowsy, Draco found some modicum of comfort in the knowledge that he was not yet being dismissed from the Inner Circle and there was a vast amount of drugs just sitting waiting for him. Should he ever need them of course.

\- - -

**To Be Continued…?**   
_A/N: Bloody god damned chapter *swears several times in rapid succession*! This chapter, for lack of eloquence, has been a cock. I shall refrain from going on a cursing rant that would make a sailor blush (believe me- I can) and say instead- thank you sweethearts for all your lovely reviews so far for ‘Beyond Redemption’ and of course our fabulous little side-fics! We might have more of them one day; there is already one that I am demanding CS write! Anyway I hope you liked this chapter because heaven knows I don’t!_  
Take care sweethearts,  
Aurora Enkeli Medeis. 

\- - -


	25. Chapter XXV

  
Author's notes: "You're beyond now- redemption, and no one's going to catch you when you fall." Harry’s back at Hogwarts. His allegiances are wavering. It’s only a matter of time… [Slash, self-harm, eating disorders, drug use…]  


* * *

** Beyond Redemption **   
_By Sisters of Darkness_

\- - -

For this Chapter:

**Rating(s)** : R/NC-17-Rated.  
 **Pairing(s)** : Mild Severus Snape/ Draco Malfoy.  
 **Warning(s)** : Mentions of Solvent Abuse/ Abuse (in general); Mentions of Drug Use/ Cutting.

\- - -

**Chapter XXV**   
_By CS WhiteWolf_

**A** thick drop of rain hit off the window, followed shortly by two more drops, which in turn were followed with a few more. Severus slowly blinked himself back to the present, his dark eyes looking up to see the beginnings of a rainstorm hitting off the glass of the conservatory roof. 

He closed his eyes for a moment, rubbing delicately at them as they itched with fatigue. He ignored the urge to press his fingers against his eyeballs in order to banish the feeling, choosing instead to pick up the mug of steaming black coffee the Malfoy house elves had supplied him with earlier that morning. 

Sniffing lightly at the liquid, Severus took the smallest of sips, enough only to wet his throat as he automatically checked for any additions to the hot liquid. Deeming the drink safe he took another, larger sip, relishing in being able to swallow the drink without so much as a twinge from his throat. 

He wished he could say the same about his nose, which still gave him the odd twinge if he tried to breathe too deeply, or caught the scent of something too strong: as he’d found out when taking a deep sniff of the rich black coffee when it had first arrived. 

The rain became heavier, beating off the conservatory in a steady pitter-pattering. Thunder rumbled somewhere in the distance, minutes later the sky lit up with a crack of lightning. Severus closed his eyes again, leaning back against the cane sofa. He’d woken shortly before dawn and stubbornly refused to let himself stay in bed any longer. He’d forced himself up on shaky legs and stumbled his way into the bathroom to shower and clean himself up in preparation of his return to Hogwarts. 

Lucius had been kind enough to get his Hogwarts quarters back in some semblance of order as well as to leave a pre-written note upon his desk for the Headmaster to read, stating that he’d been called to a Death Eater meeting, it would hopefully explain to Dumbledore why he had not returned to the school in time to teach his classes. He’d have to explain himself as to why Draco Malfoy was no longer on school property. 

Severus gently pinched the bridge of his nose. His headache from yesterday was returning and somehow he just knew it wasn’t going to be a good day at all. Another crack of lightning flashed through the dull and dreary sky, the roll of thunder rumbling across the sky mere minutes before it. He finished the last sip of his coffee, placing the mug back upon the side table before checking his watch. He still had a few hours before he’d have to return to the school. 

He tried to recall what classes he would have to teach that day. It was a Wednesday. And Wednesday meant the second year Hufflepuff/Ravenclaw class followed by the Fifth year Gryffindor/Slytherin class. A grim smile twisted his lips as he realised he had the afternoon free. That should give him ample time to compose himself again before dinner and then the Occlumency lesson he had with Harry Potter- though he was seriously considering cancelling the class. 

He wouldn’t however. He’d worked in worse states before and wasn’t about to give in now- no matter how much his head hurt, his nose stung and he just wanted to curl up in his rooms and just exist. He’d already decided to postpone the detentions he’d issued to Harry and Draco both. He couldn’t bear to inflict either boy on the other. Especially not after he’s nearly lost Draco. 

Severus felt his heart clench painfully in his chest at the thought. He’d have to go see the boy again before he left. He hadn’t yet been awake at the same time Severus had but the Potions Master was determined to speak with him before he returned to the school, just to make sure he was really alright. 

He presses the tips of his fingers against his temples; rubbing at them to ease the tension he felt building up. The first thing he planned on doing upon his return to Hogwarts, even before going up to see the Headmaster, was to take a headache potion to stave off the migraine he could feel brewing within his head. 

“Severus?” Severus’ head whipped up, his eyes widening as he saw Draco hovering in the doorway, dressed only in his bed-robes. His feet were bare and he shifted almost nervously from one foot to the other, in his hand was clutched a furry brown bear, which Severus immediately recognised. 

He stood swiftly, unsure how to proceed. He wondered if he should just greet the boy or gathering him up in his arms and hold him until the pain blooming in his chest to finally dissipate. He took only one hesitant step forward before Draco made the choice for him, running up to him and throwing himself into Severus’ arms, burying his face into the Potions Master’s chest. 

Severus’ arms automatically went round Draco’s lithe figure, holding the young boy close as he shook against him, rubbing his back slowly in an effort to calm him. He managed to manoeuvre them both onto the sofa, holding the blond Slytherin against him until he began to pull away. 

Severus let him, meeting Draco’s gaze as he raised a hand to brush his mussed hair from the boy’s face, taking in his flushed cheeks and parted pink lips. Draco seemed to be considering whether or not to make the first move, no doubt he recalled Severus pushing him away the last time he tried. 

Severus cupped Draco’s face in his hand, leaning forward, his eyes still upon the boy’s, allowing Draco to decide the final move. It felt like an age before the blond leaned in, pressing a teasingly soft and innocent kiss to Severus’ lips and just holding them there for a long while. Simply savouring the feel of lips upon lips before Draco pressed forward, moving his mouth slowly against the Potions Master’s, a flicker of tongue prompting Severus into taking a more active role in their kiss. 

The kiss was slow and unhurried, just lips upon lips with the slight brushing of tongue against mouth every now and again. They pulled away after a long moment, Draco resting his head against Severus’ chest, closing his eyes as he sighed contently. 

“How are you feeling?” Severus asked. 

“Alright, I guess,” he leaned forward and picked up the bear he’s so unceremoniously dropped when holding Severus. He gave the Potions Master a sheepish grin when the man raised an eyebrow at him. 

“Explain to me, Draco, how exactly you managed to get ahold of that bear?” 

The blond shifted slightly, “Father to get it for me.” 

Severus’ eyes narrowed, “And just how would he know where to find it?” 

Draco stroked the bear as he avoided Severus’ eyes. “I didn’t actually tell him, if that’s what you’re asking.” 

“Then how did you get the bear?” 

Draco shrugged delicately, “I don’t know, I think he just knew, like he’d seen it before. I was only half awake. They wouldn’t let me go see you and I-,” he trailed off. “He left me with mother and came back with your bear.” 

“I never told Lucius about it.” 

“Maybe he just knows you better than you thought?” 

Severus made a noncommittal sound, watching as Draco fiddled around with the brown bear, gathering his courage to speak again. Severus remained silent, keeping back his own hoard of questions and concerns as he waited for Draco to begin his own.

“Father is taking away my cocaine,” the boy said eventually.

Severus nodded his head, “I know”

Draco looked at him, “It’s not fair,” he pouted slightly, causing Severus’ lips to twist up in amusement. 

“Isn’t it?” he asked.

Draco shook his head. “He’s not taking away your potions,” he pointed out.

Severus couldn’t help but snort at that comment, wincing almost immediately after doing so. Draco’s eyes took on an apologetic look as he reached up and softly touched at Severus’ nose, feeling the older man tensing at the gesture. 

“Does it hurt?” he questioned with a small frown.

Severus nodded, “A little,”

Draco leaned forward and pressed a light kiss to the tip of Severus’ nose, “All better?” 

The Potions Master smiled, pulling Draco back into his arms, holding him close. They sat like that for a while before Severus chose to spoke, breaking the lulling beat of rain against glass. “I was so afraid when I found out what you’d done, little snake. We thought we’d lost you.” 

Draco stiffened slightly, before nuzzling his face into Severus neck, wrapping his arms securely around the older man. “I know you’re sorry about what happened, Severus. I’m sorry too.” He whispered. “I shouldn’t have said what I did. I didn’t mean it. I just- I wasn’t thinking and I wanted to hurt you like, like-,”

“Like I was hurting you? Severus prompted quietly.

Draco nodded against him and Severus sighed tightening his hold. “I wish you’d told me, Draco. I didn’t know, I didn’t see.” He carefully breathed deeply the scent of Draco’s hair; “Potter will never take us away from you- not ever.” He pulled away a little in order to look into Draco’s stormy grey eyes. “He’ll never replace you. No one can.” 

“Why do we need him, Severus?” Draco asked, his eyes shining with emotion, “We don’t really need him.”

Severus opened his mouth to respond but Draco shook his head, turning his face away again. “I don’t want to talk about this now, forget I asked.” 

Severus nodded watching Draco intently as the blond boy stared off into the distance momentarily, unconsciously tugging at the bandages around his arm, Severus squeezed him slightly, catching the boy’s attention, causing him to blink himself back into the present. 

“How is your arm?” Severus’ dark eyes flickered over the bandaged wrist once more before moving back up to meet Draco’s eyes. The boy shrugged elegantly.

“It’s fine.” He said, “A little itchy. I’m surprised father isn’t kicking up as much fuss about my cutting as he is about my snorting.” 

“He most likely realises the futility in taking away your blades at this moment in time.” 

Draco gave him a sharp look. “Would _you_ have me stop cutting as well?” 

Severus met Draco’s gaze evenly. “Usually I would not bother about it.” 

“But now?” 

“I will admit I am worried about you. I doubt Lucius sees that taking your stash away from you will only increase your cutting as you try to make up for the loss. I simply fear you will once again go too deep in search of whatever release it is you will seek to compensate the lack of drugs.”

A pink flush tinged the pale boy’s cheeks, “I wasn’t trying to kill myself, Sev.” He crossed his arms defensively.

Severus didn’t say a word and Draco squirmed slightly under the intensity of the older man’s stare. “I don’t think my parents believe me.” He said softly.

“Do you believe yourself?”

“What?” Draco gave him an incredulous look. “What is that supposed to mean?” 

“Calm down, Draco.” Severus soothed him. “I am simply asking you a question.” 

“One implying that you do not believe me either!” 

“No.” Severus shook his head. “If you tell me you didn’t try to kill yourself, Draco, I _will_ believe you. What I am asking is if you believe yourself? You did not want to kill yourself, fine, but did you want to die?” 

“I- I wasn’t thinking about it.” Draco whispered quietly, a frown marring his brow, confusion in his eyes, “I just wanted to- I don’t know!” He growled in frustration. “I just wanted to hurt and feel and… and I was angry! So angry because Potter was- is taking you away from me!” Draco made move to get up but Severus only strengthened his hold around the blond aristocrat. 

“Draco, Draco stop this!” He said sternly as the boy struggled to be out his grasp, his effort to escape Severus arms futile as he succeeded only in tiring himself out until his breath came in little pants and beads of sweat beaded upon a suddenly ashen face. 

“Hush,” Severus said softly, cradling Draco gently against his chest. “Hush, Dragon.” 

Draco whimpered slightly as dizziness washed over him to the point of nausea before it slowly subsided. Severus’ nimble fingers carded through his soft white blond locks, soothing and calming the boy with the repetitive motions until Draco’s breathing was once more under his control. 

“Okay?” Severus asked quietly, pressing a kiss to the boy’s forehead. Draco nodded, leaning heavily against the Potions Master and giving in, unresistingly, to the sleep that claimed him. Severus turned his eyes to look out through the windows of the conservatory, his view of the grounds distorted by the rivulets of water running down the glass. 

\- - -

**To Be Continued…?**   
_A/N: Once again, big thanks to all of you lovely people out there who reviewed last chapter! Thanks also to those of you who reviewed our side-stories, we’re really pleased you guys liked them so much! We’re aspiring to do a few more though as of yet we have no set target/date for when we’ll get anymore out! Thanks once again and I hope to see ya’ll continue reviewing BR! We cannot express how much every review/message/e-mail means to us!_  
Peace,  
Sister of Darkness,  
CS WhiteWolf 

\- - -


	26. Chapter XXVI

  
Author's notes: "You're beyond now- redemption, and no one's going to catch you when you fall." Harry’s back at Hogwarts. His allegiances are wavering. It’s only a matter of time… [Slash, self-harm, eating disorders, drug use…]  


* * *

** Beyond Redemption **   
_By Sisters of Darkness_

\- - -

For this Chapter:

**Rating(s)** : R/NC-17-Rated.  
 **Pairing(s)** : None.  
 **Warning(s)** : Mentions of Self-Harm and Abuse.

\- - -

**Chapter XXVI**   
_By CS WhiteWolf_

**S** everus calmly met the Headmaster’s gaze as the old man leaned forward, elbows upon his desk, fingers pressed together, blue eyes twinkling deceivingly behind his half-moon spectacles. Severus could see the dangerous glint to that twinkle.

“And Mr Malfoy had to leave because?” Dumbledore asked calmly, a minute wave of his hand queue for Severus to start explaining further.

Severus remained impassive under the scrutiny of Hogwarts Headmaster, unwilling to show even the slightest hint of weakness before the man, for just as a wounded prey makes an easier target for the hunter, Severus knew that should Dumbledore sense anything amiss with him, he would have no qualms about using all the power he had to rape through his mind in search of the truth. 

“The Dark Lord wished to meet the boy. He’s mentioned recruiting the seventh years early and wish to see if the boy had the stamina to be a part of the Death Eaters so soon,” Severus lied smoothly. His Occlumency shields were firmly in place around the memories he did not wish for the Headmaster to see whilst still allowing the man access to his mind. 

Severus had no doubt that Dumbledore was aware of the shields in place, but so long as the man did not become aware that his words were naught but lies, he was relatively safe in the man’s presence.

“And did he?” Dumbledore asked, unwilling to let the matter drop so easily. After all, Severus missing from the school was cause for concern in of itself, but for Draco Malfoy to be gone also- and to a Death Eater meeting of all things, well, this was cause for enquiry- not that Dumbledore would be calling for one of course. 

Severus nodded, “For the most part,” He replied, “though I did try to dissuade the Dark Lord until after the students have graduated. I played heavily upon the fact that having marked Death Eaters in the school would surely raise your suspicions.”

Dumbledore finally sat back in his seat, dropping the Legilimens he was using. “Very well. When will Mr Malfoy be returning to us?” 

“As soon as he is recovered, Headmaster. The Dark Lord did not take the boy’s reluctance to participate very well.” 

“Is there any hope of converting the boy to our side?” the man mused aloud.

“I am working on him.” Severus said softly, a smirk discernable in his words. “I believe this encounter with the Dark Lord will play a major factor in changing his mind.”

Dumbledore’s eyes never lost their calculating look, even as he smiled happily at Severus. “Lemon drop?”

\- - -

Severus stepped away from the wall leading to Dumbledore’s office, the stone gargoyles closing with a thud behind him. Only then did Severus dare let out a heavy sigh, raising his hand to pinch lightly at the bridge of his nose. He silently cursed the Headmaster for his use of Legilimency- it had done nothing for Severus’ headache, which he had still to take something for, not daring to be under the influence of any potions whatsoever where the headmaster was concerned. 

Swiftly, Severus made his way down towards his dungeons. Stealthily sweeping down corridors and staircases until he’d reached marble staircase, leading down into the entrance hall. He’d no sooner stepped off the last step however when he was waylaid en route to the dungeons and the blissful bottle of headache potion that awaited him there. 

“Professor Snape?” Severus turned to face the speaker of the voice, already knowing whom it was he would find. 

Harry Potter stood just out of the doors leading into the Great Hall. His face was paler than when last Severus had seen the boy, darkened bags collecting beneath tired eyes- and yet here the boy was, awake and up at barely half past seven in the morning, and looking to have been awake for at least a few hours longer. 

Harry cautiously approached his professor, not terribly sure on what he should say to the man now that he’d called upon him. 

“Are you alright, sir?” he finally asked. Trying not to look the complete fool for asking. “Is everything okay?”

Severus raised an eyebrow in question of the boy’s question, wondering why the boy would be asking such a thing. It was impossible that he actually knew what had occurred. Then again, the lack of both Malfoy and himself in the school right after the incident during his detention may have lead to the suspicion that something was up. 

Both men watched each other a moment, both debating on how to answer the question of the other until Harry lowered his hair, raising his hand to cautiously lift his bangs, revealing the bright red of his cursed scar.

Severus stared at the vivid rawness of the mark, his eyes narrowing on the condition of the usually paled indentation, wondering at the cause for such a change. A memory flittered past his mind, a voice murmuring about a link, a link between Harry and the Dark Lord. 

Severus visibly frowned at the dark-haired boy before him, wondering at the exact extent of the link. Voldemort had never mentioned their being anything more than a slight whispering of emotions between them. At least until the boy’s fifth year whereupon Voldemort had learned to manipulate their bond which inevitably brought about the disaster that was the Department of Mysteries fiasco- a disaster for both sides, but especially the Dark Side. Not just because of the loss of the prophecy Voldemort was so keen to get a hold of, but also because the after affects of his possessing Harry Potter had resulted in unexpected side-effects for the Dark Lord and the Inner Circle also. 

It was not- as the old fool Dumbledore thought- Harry’s ability to love that had repelled Voldemort from his body, rather it was the sheer pain of loss he felt for the mutt Sirius Black that had thrown Voldemort from his possession, leaving him screaming and for the first time Severus had ever seen him, crying for the Inner Circle, feeling- with Harry’s loss of Sirius so fresh inside him- as though he’s lost his lovers instead. It took hour upon painstaking hour to console Voldemort, both he and Lucius holding him encase in their arms, encircling him in their embrace until the older man had regained some semblance of control over himself. 

They had silently agreed never to mention the Dark Lord’s breakdown- not even amongst themselves. Voldemort hadn’t made another mental attack on Harry since then. 

“Sir?” Severus was pulled from his thoughts. He blinked at the boy before him, holding back a scowl as he realised he’s been lost in his own thoughts, oblivious to his surroundings. 

Scanning the hallways quickly, his sharp eyes noting nothing out of sorts. He turned back to the boy, jerking his head to the side, indicating for Harry to follow him as he spun on his heel and proceeded down into the dungeons. He heard Harry’s hurried footsteps as the boy jogged to keep up with Severus’ long-legged pace. 

They reached Severus’ office, the Potions Master, spelling the room open with his wand before stepping through, holding the door open for Harry to enter also. Upon closing the door, Severus couldn’t help but chance a look over at the desk Draco had begun mutilating his finger at only a few days ago. The desk was spotless, of course, but in his minds eye Severus could still see the steady stream of blood seeping forth from cut skin to stain desk and ingredients a deep and dark red. 

But there was no blood, and no stains, nothing more than a phantom vision of self-mutilation at the frontier of his thoughts. He turned his gaze back to Harry, just in time to see the boy’s eyes sliding away from the same desk Severus had been staring at. He met Severus eyes unflinchingly, the intense greens telling Severus that he knew at least that much whether or not he was told. 

Severus barely even blinked an eye at Harry before moving over towards his desk and indicating for the boy to be seated. Harry did so without word, watching Severus move around his desk and seat himself. They stared at each other a long moment. 

“What is wrong with your scar?” Severus finally asked. 

Harry shifted before shrugging, he flickered his eyes up to Severus’. “I’m not sure if I should tell you yet, sir.” He ran a hand through his already rumpled hair, “I mean, not until I know- until I decide,” He bit his lip a moment. 

Severus reluctantly nodded his hair. “A wise decision, Potter.”

Harry nodded slightly before they lapsed into an expecting silence, which the Gryffindor finally answered with a blurted: “You didn’t answer my question.”

Severus pressed the tips of his fingers together, “Indeed?” He questioned, watching as the dark-haired boy bobbed his head in affirmation. “And what question would that be, Harry?” 

Harry blinked at the use of his first name, seeing the glitter of Snape’s eyes at his slight confusion. He swallowed hard a moment. “I asked if you were alright? If everything was alright?” 

“Why would you assume anything would be amiss?”

Harry stared at him incredulously. “Perhaps because of what happened in Monday’s detention?”

“And what happened during your detention, Potter?” 

Harry glared at the man before him, “Well you went ballistic for one. I never knew Malfoy was a self-harmer, and maybe you did, or maybe you didn’t, but that was hardly the sort of reaction I’d have expected from you. Sir.”

Severus said nothing, causing Harry to squirm a little in his seat before turning his glare back onto the Potions Master. 

“What would you have expected of me, Potter?” 

“I know I don’t know everything. I know there was more to Malfoy purposely cutting himself up in front of you than I know about. But you… you’re usually more reserved, more in control of yourself.”

Severus froze inwardly at that last statement in particular, knowing it was true, and that for Harry to have noticed before he himself had. Well, not holding it against the boy, Severus felt infinitely more mortified at his behaviour and lack of control over himself. He knew better, he’d been taught better… been beaten to do better.

Silence reigned over the both of them. Severus was tempted to send Potter away from his rooms, eager to finally get his hands on that Headache Potions he’d been aching for since awakening this morning at the crack of dawn. 

“You and Malfoy were missing from school yesterday, sir. Voldemort was angry. He was angry with you. And Malfoy. You’ve both done something he doesn’t like. He was scared as well. I’ve never felt him scared before.” 

Severus’ head whipped back up to Harry’s, the boy was looking at him in a way that almost forced Severus to answer him. Such power radiated unknowingly from the boy seated before him. 

“And just how would you know something like that, Harry?” He asked the boy before him. 

Harry just shrugged, clamping his mouth shut as if he’d realised he’d said something he knew he shouldn’t have. 

“You would be obliged to tell me something like this were you a part of the Inner Circle,” Severus said softly. 

“That would require me to be a part of the Inner Circle in the first place.” Harry replied just as softly. 

“Then it is a good thing that neither of us will reveal what it known to us.” Severus said, his eyes once again glittering. “You know I could just extract the information I require from you without your permission.”

Harry tensed, “You could.” 

Severus cocked his head. “But you’d tell Lupin.”

Harry smirked slightly, “And you wouldn’t want me to do that, would you, Professor?” 

“I don’t see how it would matter either way.” 

Harry’s smirk widened, and Severus was graced with seeing a flash of ‘Slytherin’ essence passing through the boy’s eyes. 

“You’re a good liar, Professor Snape. You have to be, being what you are and all. But in this instance you cannot deceive me. I know Remus means something more to you than you’re willing to admit to me. And though I also know he isn’t the only thing staying you hand, I do know he is a key factor in helping you make up your mind.”

“You seem to know a lot of things all of a sudden, Potter.” 

The boy shrugged, “I’ve had some time to think.”

Severus refrained from commenting, turning his eyes to his watch, blinking in disbelief that he’d been in here with Potter for almost an hour already. He turned back to look at the boy, only to find Harry staring intently at him. The boy’s gaze focused so absorbedly upon Severus, that it was all the Head of Slytherin could do not to squirm in his seat under the sudden scrutiny. 

He wondered what the boy was looking for, and why. No one had ever looked at him the way Harry was doing so- save perhaps Dumbledore, but that was only when the Headmaster were been trying to discern the truth in Severus’ words. But not even Dumbledore could make him feel as if he were a subject in one of his own experiments the way Harry was- he was in all essence the ingredient under the un-mistaking eyes of the microscope. 

Harry barely blinked as his eyes roamed over the Potions Master, trying to discern what it was that made the man so wanted by not only the ‘Inner Circle’, but by his… by Remus as well. He could see why Snape would want Remus, but for Remus to want the Potions Master? 

All Harry could see upon first glimpse was what he’d always seen of Snape- the greasy hair, large hooked nose, the crooked teeth, and his skinny physique. Though Harry really had no right to scorn him for the latter, he wasn’t exactly doing well on the weight front at the moment either. 

He pursed his lips, his brow furrowing as he tried to look further- to see what everyone else was seeing in the man before him. He supposed one of Snape’s more… redeeming qualities, so to speak, was perhaps his voice? Harry bit the inside of his cheeks. Snape really did have a nice voice, if it wasn’t being used to scorn and humiliate you at every possible moment. It was deep, with a rumbling quality to it. A voice that made Harry’s heart flutter just at the thought of hearing it… 

Sirius had a voice like that. Harry blinked, breaking away from his thoughts as a wave of coldness swept over him. He tried to push thoughts of his deceased lover away from the forefront of his mind, afraid at what would happen should he let himself be overrun by thoughts and memories of the man. 

He turned his gaze back to Snape, fixing his eyes to a point on the man’s chest for a moment, allowing himself to recover his wits for a moment before once again setting off on the task of just what made Severus Snape the ‘to-do’ list all of a sudden. Though to be fair on the man, it wasn’t really all of a sudden, now was it? Steering clear of the older man’s voice, Harry tried once again to see what everyone else saw in the man. Was it his eyes- those unfathomable depths of obsidian black that hid the man’s emotions from all, save those who really knew him? Could it be his hands- perhaps just as talented in the arts of love making as they were at potions?

Harry felt a wave of heat rush up his neck at the last thought, causing him to shift in his seat. Slowly he became aware of a prickling sensation directed straight towards him, causing Harry to hesitantly raise his head, his eyes meet those of Snape’s. He gasped silently as he saw Snape staring just as intently at him as Harry has been towards Snape himself. 

He quickly turned his eyes away, his cheeks flaming. He had not been thinking that. He had not seriously been considering the things that made Snape… _desirable_ , had he? Harry felt a shiver steal up his spine, but for once he could not honestly say it was all in disgust. Harry scowled at himself, he shouldn’t be thinking of Snape like that! What would be next? He scoffed to himself. That he’d start seeing that pointy-faced git Malfoy as some sort of Adonis? He refrained from snorting aloud at the thought of Malfoy being anything of the likes. 

“I think you should leave now, Mr Potter.” Harry’s head snapped back up, wondering if he’d perhaps offended the man with his staring. 

“You have less than half and hour before your first class is to begin,” Severus said dismissively, standing and making his way over to the door leading into his private quarters. “Do shut the door on your way out.” 

He slipped into his rooms without a backwards glance, missing the slight quirk of Harry’s lips even as the boy frowned, deep in thought.

\- - -

**To Be Continued…?**   
_A/N: Yes folks, as some of you observant people will have already noted, this chapter was indeed written by me- CS WhiteWolf. And yes, so was the last one! Why? You may ask- well, and it’s fairly simple, Aurora and myself recently got together for some major chapter re-planning- literally all of them, causing some major confusion, and some frustration on my part (because all my numbers were now out of order! Sorry, it’s the perfectionist in me!), and thus because of this re-planning, chapters 26 and 27 were planned in such a way that I had to write this one since it was mainly dealing with ‘my’ characters and Aurora now has to do both 27 and 28 because they in essence deal with ‘her’ characters. Never fear though, after chapter 28 things will be back to their normal rotor of us doing each alternate chapter: me on the odd numbers, and Aurora on the evens!_  
Thanks again for the wonderful influx of reviews you guys have been leaving us! I can never think of something ‘new’ to say in these things that quite expresses the gratitude Aurora and myself feel at having so many devoted readers and reviewers! We thus implore you all to keep at it- your feedback is what makes BR- we don’t care if we have to re-plan every single chapter if we feel it’ll help you with the flow of BR, because we would actually do this- those of you who review and let us know what you think don’t know how much you help us write this story! You’re all very much appreciated!  
Thanks!   
Peace,  
Sister of Darkness,  
CS WhiteWolf 

\- - -


	27. Chapter XXVII

  
Author's notes: "You're beyond now- redemption, and no one's going to catch you when you fall." Harry’s back at Hogwarts. His allegiances are wavering. It’s only a matter of time… [Slash, self-harm, eating disorders, drug use…]  


* * *

** Beyond Redemption **   
_By Sisters of Darkness_

\- - -

For this Chapter:

**Rating(s)** : R-Rated.  
 **Pairing(s)** : Draco Malfoy/Severus Snape; Draco Malfoy/Blaise Zabini.  
 **Warning(s)** : None.

\- - -

**Chapter XXVII**   
_By Aurora Enkeli Medeis_

**D** raco stumbled ungracefully from the fireplace in Severus’ office, finding himself gripped around the upper arms before he could topple unceremoniously to the floor. He lifted his face, nose barely brushing over a black robe-covered chest. Silver eyes averted, Draco brushed the soot from his robes as he pointedly ignored the look he could feel the Potions Master giving him.

Severus cupped Draco’s cheek in his hand, forcing the young Malfoy to meet his gaze. Draco kept his eyes cast downwards and the Potions Master pressed his lips lightly to the boy’s cheek. The blonde’s eyes fluttered closed as he turned is head slightly, his mouth brushing over Severus’. The older man kept the meeting soft until he felt Draco press his lips in harder and place a hand softly on his chest. Both lips parted slightly at the same moment, mouths barely moving over one another as tongues met once, twice, before Severus placed a closed mouth kiss to the side of Draco’s mouth and wrapped his arms around the young blond. 

“How are you feeling?” Severus asked, eventually pulling away from Draco and moving back behind his desk.

“Better.” Draco replied quickly, his voice still croaking somewhat.

“Have you taken your potions today?” The Potions Master questioned as he picked up a quill and scowled at the parchment in front of him. Draco rolled his eyes at the way things suddenly snapped back to normal.

“Yes I have, I took another healing potion and the one for my nose before I left the Manor.” Draco subconsciously scratched the bridge of his nose as he spoke of the potion.

“And the nutritional potion?” Severus asked, not looking up from the parchment.

“No.” Draco replied simply as he dropped to the chair in front of Severus’ desk. Severus looked up, an eyebrow raised.

“And might ask I why?” Draco met his gaze evenly.

“There was none at the Manor. I knew I would have to wait until I got back.” The blond responded. Severus eyed him critically before opening his desk drawer and handing a vial over to Draco.

“Thank you,” Severus went back to the parchment and Draco looked around the room. It had quite obviously been thoroughly tidied since the previous night if what his father had told him was true. Draco frowned; he didn’t like the thought of Severus spending time in a fume filled office as he put away open jars of potions.

“You should get to your dormitory and rest before dinner, you’re excused from this afternoons classes… not that you had planned on going in the first place.” Severus added, looking up with a small smirk. Draco nodded and stood up.

“Goodbye, Severus.” Draco said before turning round and exiting the room. He strode quickly through the dark corridors until he came to the entrance of the Slytherin common room. Saying the password, Draco stepped inside to see Blaise Zabini, Theodore Nott, Crabbe, Goyle and Pansy sitting on the couches by the fire. They all looked up as he walked through. Draco nodded at them, not stopping to ask why they weren’t at lunch before ascending the stairs to his dormitory.

The blond entered the room, closing the door behind him and sealing it with a locking charm. 

Draco sat down heavily on the edge of his bed, catching his breath from coming up the stairs. He really was in no condition to be anywhere but in bed at the Manor but he’d be damned before he showed any _more_ weakness. Which he realised was somewhat ironic as he leant over to un-tie his shoe. He pulled it off and lifted the edge of the insole, sliding out the folded piece of parchment.

Dropping his shoe, Draco opened the parchment as he took his wand from inside his robes. He knew he was perhaps being over cautious by putting the parchment inside his shoe… in fact he knew he was considering his parents hadn’t even thought to search him but he was taking no chances. As he transfigured the parchment back into the white powder filled bag he felt a surprising twinge in his stomach. Guilt. Draco Malfoy actually felt minutely guilty. The blond rolled his eyes. Wonders will never cease. 

His parents had implicitly trusted him, hadn’t searched him, hadn’t even questioned him because they had such faith in him. Well, Draco thought with a scowl, they should have given thought to the name of the family that Draco had been born into. That thought, however, didn’t stem the guilt he felt at betraying his father.

He dropped to the floor in front of his trunk, casting the charms to open it. Pulling out several items of clothing, Draco felt around for the ridge that showed the location of the hidden compartment in which he had once hidden a bottle of Firewhisky. The bottle was long gone after the night Severus had found him drunk and it now served as the perfect place to hide his cocaine. Lucius had taken the oak box from the room in the tower, also depriving him of his razor blade and switchblade. Draco piled the clothes back in and locked the trunk. He stood up from the carpet and caught sight of himself in a nearby mirror.

Draco stared at himself in the dormitory mirror, frowning as he realised just why he had gotten such strange looks from his housemates. His face was chalk white, hair uncharacteristically bedraggled as it hung limply around his face. He had cast glamours on his eyes and nose but in his weakened state they didn’t seem to be holding up too well. The black circles, although lessened from the sleep he had gotten at the Manor, were beginning to show through the charms and the slight redness around his nostrils was just visible. All in all, Draco thought, he really did look like shit. Not very often something he thought when looking at his reflection.

He frowned harder suddenly. Why in the hell were Slytherin sixth years sitting in the common room in the middle of lunchtime? Whispering in a small circle of all things. Draco snorted; he knew a plot in the works when he saw one. Abandoning his original plan to shower and tidy up his appearance while skipping afternoon classes he left the dormitory, quickly checking the locks were on his trunk before sweeping down the staircase.

Voices hushed as Draco swept into the common room and Blaise waved him over to the couches by the fire. Pansy smiled at him and shifted over on the armchair to make room for him. Draco rolled his eyes and sat down on the lather two-seat sofa beside Theodore Nott. Crabbe and Goyle sat side by side on another sofa across from Blaise who was casually leaning forward on an armchair.

All four Slytherin boys eyed Draco’s appearance but refrained from passing comment, all of them having similar theories on why he look so unhealthy. Pansy, however, simply sat and pouted at having been rejected by the blond.

“What are the five of you plotting?” Draco asked with an eyebrow raised. Blaise smirked at him.

“I’m glad you asked.” Blaise began, “we were discussing the Halloween Ball and the possibility of pulling a large scale prank.” He sat back in the chair to demonstrate the fact that it was _him_ who was the mastermind behind the scheme. Draco leant his arm on the side of the sofa and leaned slightly towards Blaise.

“And just what did you have in mind?” Draco asked, a tone of indifference hiding his curiosity. Blaise’s smirk widened.

“Theo,” he started, nodding in Nott’s direction, “came across something interesting in a cupboard in one of the dungeon classrooms… an empty one that is.” Draco refrained from rolling his eyes at the way Blaise was dragging out the explanation.

“And this thing he found would be?” Draco asked, indulging Blaise’ s dramatics.

“A boggart.” Blaise responded proudly. Draco gave a look of intrigue, an expression that made him look eerily like his father.

“Perfect for say… letting out at Halloween,” Draco said and Blaise grinned.

“Exactly, and what better a target than the golden boy himself.” Blaise smirked and Crabbe and Goyle snickered.

Setting a boggart on Potter. Draco groaned inwardly. A few weeks ago he would have jumped at the opportunity to do something like this to Potter but now… now he had the threat of being cast from the Inner Circle. It was problematic to say the least and Draco’s mind worked quickly before responding.

“Isn’t it a bit too obvious to set it only on Potter?” Draco asked casually. Blaise frowned. “What I’m saying is- don’t pick just one person to set it on. Let it loose in the hall and keep out of its way.” He explained, “and if it singles out a Gryffindor then all the better.” He added as an after thought.

“Malfoy’s right,” Nott piped up, “Besides, it’ll be easier if we don’t have to figure out a way to get it to focus on Potter alone.” Crabbe and Goyle nodded in agreement as Blaise bit his cheek in thought before nodding.

“I agree, all we need to do now is figure out how to contain the boggart and get it into the hall… which should be simple enough.” The group murmured in agreement and Nott stood up from the sofa.

“I don’t know about you lot but I at least want some lunch before class.” He said, causing Crabbe and Goyle to leap up. Pansy stood next followed by Blaise and they made their way to the door. Blaise cast a glance back at Draco who was leaning back casually on the sofa, eyeing him from a distance. He told the other four that he would catch up and waited for them to leave before going back across to Draco.

The blond was already making his way across to Blaise and they met in the middle of the room.

“Are you feeling okay. Draco?” He asked softly, his voice and expression considerably different from when the others had been there. Draco nodded slowly.

“I am tired, that’s all.” He turned to the staircase but Blaise put a hand softly on his arm and pulled him back. He ran the back of his fingers softly over Draco’s cheek.

“Are you sure?” Blaise asked, stepping closer to Draco who nodded again. “I’d actually hoped you would have been around last night.” He commented with a smirk. Draco smirked back as he ran a hand through Blaise’s dark hair.

“I’m almost feeling rather disappointed now.” Draco said nonchalantly. Blaise brushed his nose over Draco’s, nudging the blonde’s head to the side.

“How about later?” Blaise asked, his blue eyes fluttering closed. Draco let out a quiet sigh and shook his head slightly.

“Not tonight, maybe tomorrow.” Draco’s breath blew over Blaise’s lips and the dark haired boy shuddered as he nodded. Draco closed the gap between them, their lips brushing softly as they parted. Blaise moaned as Draco’s tongue flicked over his and the blond pulled them together. Their hips met and Draco tangled his fingers in Blaise’s hair.

It was different, of course, from what Draco was used to. He and Blaise were the same age, same height, similar build. Everything was the opposite from being with a member of the Inner Circle but Draco didn’t mind. Blaise was attractive, willing and certainly useful for a good time, he expected nothing more and was probably Draco’s best friend- all in all, Draco thought, it was a great arrangement.

They broke the kiss slowly, both taking in large gulps of air before Blaise took a few steps backwards.

“I’ll see you at dinner.” Draco said before turning and climbing the staircase to the dormitory. As he pushed open the door to the showers he heard Blaise leave the common room and the Slytherin dungeons were plunged into a blissful silence.

Stepping out his robes, Draco slowly peeled the bandages from his arms. The cuts had healed considerably as a result of potions and charms but they were still an angry red in contrast to the pale skin of his arms. He stepped onto the tiled floor and turned on one of the showers. The hot water poured onto his head, plastering his hair to his forehead as it ran in rivulets over his skin. Room quickly filling with steam, Draco snorted at his earlier behaviour. 

He had protected Potter. Draco Malfoy had actually gone out of his way to protect Harry Potter. He shook his head wryly as he reached for the shampoo. First feelings of guilt and now this? Wonders really would never cease.

\- - -

**To Be Continued…?**   
_A/N: I find it disturbing to be writing an odd numbered chapter- I have a weird thing against odd numbers. The drama has certainly waned in the last few chapters and it annoys me so once again, yes you guessed it, I don’t like it! I was having such issues …I mean major issues, in which I ended up typing conversations with myself. Honestly I do worry. Blaise hasn’t been mentioned too much before and this is why- so far we have focussed solely on the IC, something which won’t change might I add, however having Blaise in this chapter was important to the plot (as demonstrated by the talk of the Slytherin’s scheme). Anyway, thanks so much for the reviews as always sweethearts. CS and I are in talks about the next side-fics but they will be while in coming. The next chapter, which I also am writing because we will be back on the original plan as of it, should be out …Sunday or Monday so until Chapter 28,_  
Take care sweethearts,  
Aurora Enkeli Medeis. 

\- - -


	28. Chapter XXVIII

  
Author's notes: "You're beyond now- redemption, and no one's going to catch you when you fall." Harry’s back at Hogwarts. His allegiances are wavering. It’s only a matter of time… [Slash, self-harm, eating disorders, drug use…]  


* * *

**Beyond Redemption**  
By Sisters of Darkness

\- - -

For this Chapter:

**Rating(s)** : R-Rated.  
 **Pairing(s)** : Draco Malfoy/Blaise Zabini.  
 **Warning(s)** : Adult Language; Mentions of Self-Harm; Drug Use.

\- - -

**Chapter XXVIII**   
_By Aurora Enkeli Medeis_

**I** n the Slytherin sixth year boys dormitory various articles of clothing were being thrown around, as four of its inhabitants realised there were less than twenty minutes until the start of the Halloween Ball. The fifth sat casually on the edge of his mattress, fingering his silver mask before standing up to survey himself in the mirror.

Ten days had passed since Draco’s return to Hogwarts and the improvements in his appearance had been obvious after just four of those days. There were no longer obvious dark circles beneath his eyes and the redness from around his nostrils was gone. Draco slipped the mask onto his face. It covered most of his forehead, curving over his nose and disguising his cheekbones. The metallic silver brought out the silver in his eyes as one side of his jaw length blond hair swept across his face. 

Fifteen minutes later the other boys had readied themselves and were standing at the door of the dormitory. Draco snorted as he looked at them. They were all in black dress robes wearing dark green masks, except Draco’s who’s was silver making him look the leader of some bizarre wizarding gang. Draco took one last stop at a mirror to fix the strands of hair that hadn’t actually fallen out of place before he and his four housemates descended the stairs into the common room.

Pansy, who had been standing preening by the sofa, let out a high pitched shriek and ran across to Draco, throwing her arms around his neck. He grimaced as the over powerful scent of her perfume nearly choked him. Blaise gave Draco a sympathetic look as Nott sniggered. Eventually Pansy let go and Draco got a good look at her garish dress. It was a bright pink and perfectly matched her mask, hair clasp and lipstick. Draco refrained from turning his nose up. It wasn’t that he particularly disliked pink; it was that he particularly disliked Pansy. Sadly, he still had to keep face and held out his arm to her. 

The cold silver of Draco’s snake pendant rubbed against his chest and he contemplated sneaking off to take just a little cocaine. Only enough to get him through the next few hours but he was pulled from his deliberation by Pansy taking his arm. Draco groaned inwardly, hating the fact that he was forced to walk into the hall and (in theory) spend the entire night dancing with Pansy. Luckily there was a scheme a foot that would hopefully prevent him from spending too much time with the pug-faced girl.

The six Slytherins left the common room and swept their way through the dungeons and up into the entrance hall. Hordes of sixth and seventh years were gathered outside the Great Hall, waiting to be let in. Draco caught sight of Potter standing alone on the stairs picking at his nails. The other boy’s hair looked slightly more tamed than usual, his forehead and cheeks covered with a simple black mask. Draco’s eyebrow quirked at Potter’s lack of glasses but was distracted by the doors of the hall opening and students filing in.

As always, Hogwarts had gone all out with its decorations. Row after row of pumpkins floated about a dance floor, shimmering lines of orange and black darting, twirling and flying around the hall. The four house tables had been pushed against the wall and covered in black tablecloths. Various bowls of sweets and punch were spread across them and Draco placed a bet with himself about which ones would end up spiked with Firewhisky, making a mental note to visit the ones he thought later.

He and his housemates strode across to a cluster of seats at the back corner of the hall. Before sitting down, Nott discreetly poured a golden liquid from a flask into the punch bowl beside them. Draco snorted- he obviously wouldn’t need to go far for a drink. Concealed with a disillusionment charm, beneath the table sat the trunk that Blaise and Goyle had managed to trap the boggart in. 

As the creature sensed more and more people in the room, Draco could vaguely hear the rattling of the trunk but as the music struck up the noise was drowned out. No one wanted to be the first onto the dance floor and people were exchanging wary glances with each other. Pansy, who was sitting a little in front of Draco and turned to him but he shook his head and mouthed ‘later’. Five minutes passed until three seventh year Gryffindor girls put on faces of grim determination before giggling at each other and stepping out into the middle of the dance floor.

Eventually several others followed and Draco’s top lip curled in distaste. He felt and arm curve around his neck, a cup of the spiked punch clasped between long fingers. Draco gratefully took the cup and turned to see Blaise smiling at him. The dark haired boy had apparently seen Draco’s distaste for the whole situation. Draco took a large mouthful of the liquid, nose screwing up slightly. Nott certainly hadn’t been subtle in his spiking. Draco closed his eyes as the warmth of the whisky slid down his oesophagus. He opened them to find Pansy standing in front of him, an expectant expression on her face evident in spite of the pink mask. 

Draco sighed and downed the other half of his drink before standing up and taking Pansy’s hand. She dragged the blond boy out into the dance floor and he caught sight of Severus watching from beside one of the tables. The Potions Master was in tailored black robes, not unlike his every-day ones, his hair tied back. At the request of Dumbledore the teachers were also wearing masks this evening. Severus’ covered the left side of his face; several strands of hair fell, almost deliberately, over the unmasked side of his face. Draco snorted, if he didn’t know better he would have said Severus made an effort. 

The Potions Master’s thin lips quirked into a small smirk at the sight of Draco dancing with Pansy and Draco glared across the hall as best as he could. When the song finished (something Draco felt took entirely too long), he excused himself from Pansy’s company and pushed his way through the throngs of dancing bodies and swept out into the Entrance Hall. 

Draco made his way to the toilets which were, as of yet, rather empty. That probably wouldn’t last long when Nott had now spiked four of the eight punch bowls. Draco went in the farthest cubicle from the door, locking it behind him. Leaning against the graffiti covered door, Draco fumbled around inside his robes for his chain. Pulling it out, he quickly unscrewed the head of the snake and scooped some of the white powder onto the spatula. He brought it to his nostril and with only a moment’s hesitation, inhaled deeply. The blond breathed a heavy sigh of relief.

It had been too long… far too long since he had felt the high of cocaine sweeping over his body. He closed his eyes to the brief euphoria. His body was still too used to the drug but he wouldn’t dare take more. He had to be subtle- Severus could spot him high easily.

“Draco?” Shit, was the first thing Draco thought at the sound of Blaise’s voice. Quickly, Draco screwed his pendant back together and stuffed it in his robes. He gave his nose a brief wipe before stepping dramatically from the cubicle. “Pansy thought you had escaped.” The dark haired boy stated with a smirk. Draco rolled his eyes as he stepped to the sink, turning on the tap in the pretence he needed to wash his hands.

“Apparently I haven’t.” Draco replied and heard Blaise snort. He turned off the tap, shaking the moisture from his hands. In the mirror, Draco could see Blaise watching him, lust showing in his blue eyes. Draco felt the drugs in his blood reacting to the thought of touching Blaise. It had been a long time since Draco had felt the pull of another person from the cocaine. It would set his every nerve on fire, pushing him into action.

Draco stepped over to Blaise swiftly and pushed him against the door. The dark haired boy gasped in shock but Draco’s lips pressing to his cut off the sound. Draco nipped at Blaise’s bottom lip until the other boy finally moaned and slipped his tongue out. It met Draco’s and the blond slammed Blaise’s hands above him. Their tongues and lips moved quick and hot over one another, groans growing louder as hips slowly moved of their own accord.

The door behind Blaise pushed open slightly before slamming shut under the weight of the two Slytherins. Someone outside cursed and the two boys sprang apart. Draco smirked before donning a sneer and pulling open the door. He made a scathing comment to the person who had tried to open the door before sweeping into the hall, not bothering to see if Blaise was following him or not. 

He spotted Potter ladling some punch into a plastic cup from a bowl that Draco recognized as a spiked one. Surprisingly, Potter looked like he was expecting the taste of alcohol and didn’t even make a face. Draco sauntered casually over and picked up the ladle and a cup for himself.

“I’m surprised you can see the bowl without your glasses on, Potter.” The blond remarked as he filled his cup. The Gryffindor sighed.

“It’s a temporary charm that fixes eyesight for a few hours.” Potter replied simply, his tone somewhat snappish. Draco glared and took a mouthful of punch without a grimace. “That punch is spiked you know?” Potter asked nonchalantly as he looked out over the dancing bodies.

“I’m aware of that, Potter. Although I notice you’re still drinking it, didn’t know Golden Boys were allowed alcohol.” Draco replied with a smirk. He knew right away he shouldn’t have made the Golden Boy comment but didn’t particularly care.

“Shouldn’t you be with your little gang?” Potter questioned, still sounding exasperated even though he tried to hide it. Draco turned to look out over the dance floor as well.

“You’re not being very friendly.” Draco remarked taking a mouthful of drink, “here I am, trying to have a civil conversation and you snap at me.” He shook his head as if in dismay.

“Malfoy, I doubt you are capable of a civilised conversation. Especially not with me so whatever you are playing at…” Draco turned round, feigning an indignant expression.

“I am playing at nothing, Potter. I simply wanted a conversation.” The blond replied. Potter’s eyes narrowed until a light bulb of recognition seemed to spark above his head.

“Voldemort wasn’t happy with you was he?” Potter asked in a hushed tone. Beneath the mask, Draco’s eyes went wide and both eyebrows raised in shock but he quickly hid it.

“What are you talking about?” He spat, taking another long mouthful of drink. Potter smirked and stepped in front of Draco, making sure they were close enough so that their words would not be over heard.

“I think Voldemort has found out everything you’ve been up to.” Potter said quietly. Draco glared at Potter, the two of them unaware of the high-pitched screams that had resounded through the hall. Draco stepped closer to Potter, bringing them almost toe-to-toe.

“You keep your little _theories_ to yourself, Potter.” He spat. The crowd was parting slightly but not to avoid the inevitable fight that was Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy. Potter began to reply but Draco’s eyes were transfixed at a spot behind Potter’s shoulder. It would seem that in spite of Draco’s best efforts, the boggart had still somehow fixated on Potter and there was now a dementor hovering behind the Gryffindor.

“Dementor… dementor…” Draco mumbled, pointing behind Potter. The brunette rolled his eyes.

“Like I’m suddenly going to fall for…” Potter visibly tensed as a cold air blew over him. 

As quick as he could, Draco darted from his position between Potter and the table to a spot further away. He already had the feeling he would be blamed for this. Potter spun round and Draco was almost impressed by the way he instinctively drew his wand. The blond watched with sadistic interest, wondering just exactly what memory the boggart-dementor was forcing Potter to relive. 

The look of determination on Potter’s face suddenly dropped, as did his wand arm. Draco saw the colour drain completely from his face as his lips began to move a little. Draco strained to hear what Potter was whispering, finally picking up on a few words.

“Sirius… no Sirius.” Before Draco could process, and take slight glee in, Potter’s anguish, Lupin and stepped in front of the dark haired boy. The boggart turned into a full moon in a pale, glowing reminder of the man’s lycanthrope. Lupin quickly got rid of the boggart but Draco was too caught up in watching Potter flee the hall to notice. Out of the corner of his eye, Draco saw Severus subtly slip through the shadows and out into the hall after Potter. Draco scowled at the door, tensing as he felt someone standing directly behind him.

“Mr Malfoy,” Came the almost growl like voice. Draco spun round to be met with the face of Lupin. The normally mild mannered and composed wizard was glaring lividly down at the blond Slytherin, “come with me. Now!” He ordered viciously before turning on his heel.

The whole crowd had parted, lining the path that Draco had to follow. The only thing the blond thought as he walked quickly away from the gawking onlookers was- Bugger.

\- - -

**To Be Continued…?**   
_A/N: And I’m back to even numbered chapters! Surprisingly I think I rather like this chapter although towards the end I was steadily drifting into Drarry author mode so I swiftly had to pull myself away from that (happy) line of thought. Thanks for the reviews for the last chapter as always. It’s back to CS for the next chapter and we’ll see the fallout from what just transpired, personally I can’t wait! Feedback, as usual, makes me bounce happily and since it feels like I’ve been sitting writing this for hours it could be time for another glass of wine!_  
Take care sweethearts,  
Aurora Enkeli Medeis. 

\- - -


	29. Chapter XXVIV

  
Author's notes: "You're beyond now- redemption, and no one's going to catch you when you fall." Harry’s back at Hogwarts. His allegiances are wavering. It’s only a matter of time… [Slash, self-harm, eating disorders, drug use…]  


* * *

** Beyond Redemption **   
_By Sisters of Darkness_

\- - -

For this Chapter:

**Rating(s)** : R/NC-17-Rated.  
 **Pairing(s)** : Mentions of Harry Potter/ Sirius Black.  
 **Warning(s)** : Self-Harm.

\- - -

**Chapter XXVIV**   
_By CS WhiteWolf_

**H** arry pushed his way out of the Great Hall, uncaring of the people he shoved his way past. All he could think about was the Dementor, the memory… Harry, _Harry- his mother’s voice screaming his name, high pitched laughter, Harry, Harry… Sirius’ voice, Harry… Harry…_ how could you, how could you let me die? Why didn’t you save me Harry? Why Harry? Why? Harry… _Harry… Then Sirius was falling through the veil, falling, falling, his body curving, arching backwards… falling, falling…_

Bile rose up from his throat, his stomach clenching unpleasantly as he hurried into the nearest bathroom, slamming into a cubical, barely crumpling to his knees before his stomach began to empty itself of it’s meagre contents, burning a trail up his throat as he threw up. It didn’t take long for his stomach to empty, leaving him dry heaving over the toilet bowl, struggling to breath past his constant gagging only to have bile and saliva brought up. 

He felt hot. And cold. Shivering as the Boggart-Dementor’s effect on him still lingered, coupled with the burning guilt and shame he felt over the memories it had forced him to remember… both his worst memory, and a memory that wasn’t a memory so much as a nightmare of what his mourning mind supplied him with. Blaming him, taunting him… hurting him with their truth and lies. 

His stomach cramped, his throat burned and there was a tell-tale pressure building in his eyes as he pressed his forehead against the cool porcelain of the toilet seat, shivering, shuddering, trying to calm himself down, to get ahold of himself. His arms wrapping about his body as he gagged a few more times. He tried to tell himself that it wasn’t really his fault. But he’d tried to tell himself this a thousand times before, hoping that if he kept repeating it to himself, like a mantra, then eventually he would be able to believe it, believe in it.

It had yet to work.

He tugged a handful of toilet paper from the roll, wiping at his mouth, spitting out the foul taste before eventually pushing himself to his feet. His legs shaky as he stumbling his way over to the sinks, proceeding to rinse his mouth of the acrid taste that lingered there. He lifted his head, turning his eyes to his reflection in the mirror, wincing at his appearance. The mask he’d worn tonight was currently lying crumpled beside the toilet in which he’d spent the last ten minutes or so cradling, allowing for him to see the rather ashen paleness his skin had taken on, his eyes looking dead, a dull and lifeless green as they stared back at him from sunken sockets. 

His brow marred in slight confusing as he touched almost timidly at his face, feeling the moisture of tears smear against his fingers, he tried to recall when it was he had begun to cry, but he could not. He watched as if disconnected as another tear slipped from his eye to run down his cheek. His mouth thinned as he brushed it away, his throat constricting around the lump of grief building within it. 

“Oh, Sirius,” He whispered hoarsely, feeling a few more tears falling from his eyes as he lowered his head, his right hand automatically searching for his left arm as he slipped his fingers beneath the sleeve of his robes, breath hitching as he traced over the thickly scarred letters that made up his lover’s- _ex_ -lover’s- name, as well as the few other mote minor cuts and scabs that littered his arm. 

“Sirius…” Reverently he traced Sirius’ name down his arm, biting his lip at the familiar itch just touching his scars brought him. He dug his nails into his arm, pinching at his skin before dragging them down, their ragged edges catching against scabs, ripping them off and reopening recent cuts. 

He whimpered at his actions, but neither in ecstasy nor pain, as he allowed the vision of his godfather falling through the veil repeat itself over and over in his mind. He felt blood trickling down his arm after a moment, pooling onto his fingers before he removed them from his sleeve, holding them in front of his eyes, licking his lips with a sudden urge to taste the blood. To lap at it as Sirius did- had done. 

His throat clogged up again as he clenched his hand into a fist, wanting so desperately to punch something, to hurt more, to punish himself. Why? Why! He wanted to scream, to cry, to moan. Anything! Anything that would release this pain inside of him, that could absolve him of his guilt. Oh Sirius, Sirius… 

A muffled sob broke free from his lips as he tried to take large gulping breaths to calm himself. It wasn’t his fault, but it was, and he knew both to be true, but did not know that which was truer, which would bring him the least amount of emotional pain. I love you, Sirius… Sirius, where are you? Where are you when I need you so?

He caught sudden movement to his left, his head snapping up and focussing on the mirror and the person who had entered the bathroom, the one who was watching him, who looked to have been watching him for a longer while. Harry’s heart leapt into his aching throat, thudding violently as reality washed over him, forcing him to realise that he was not alone, that he was in the middle of a public bathroom, and that anyone could have seen him in his ministrations. 

“You should always be aware of your surroundings,” Harry shivered, turning his head away as Severus Snape walked further into the restroom, the half-mask he wore still firmly in place, though his hair had come free from it’s confines, bushing against his shoulders and framing his face. If Harry had taken the moment to study professor, like Draco earlier that night he would have noticed that the man had indeed made an effort for the ball in that his hair was a lot cleaner than it usually was. 

But Harry was not studying Severus at that moment, and neither were his thoughts turned to the Slytherin boy, rather they were on Sirius and things of the past and he wondered what it was Snape planned to do now that he’d found him, caught him in the act, witnessed him harming himself with nary a care other than that of the sting it gave him, the satisfaction in knowing that by physically hurting himself he could numb the void-like pain within his chest, his heart. 

Severus stopped mere feet behind him, a little more to the right so as to keep an eye on what Harry was doing. The dark-haired Gryffindor only reached for the tap, turning the cold water on and washing his hand free of the blood, watching the pinkish water swirl down the drain before splashing at his face, scrubbing away the tear tracks that lingered there.

“And the arm,” Severus’ deep voice interrupted him just as he moved to turn the water off. Harry looked up, meeting the man’s obsidian gaze, unable to muster the energy to feel affronted at the command- for what right did this man have in telling him what to do? He blinked at the Potions Master. His head feeling suddenly and almost overwhelmingly light.

“Wash your arm, Harry,” Severus said softly. And for some reason he obeyed, though the moment felt to him surreal as he lifted his sleeve revealing the myriad of cuts and scars and… bruises? Severus’ eyes took in every scratch and cut, hungry for the knowledge this gave him about the boy, wondering at the cause for each and everyone of them. His eyes lingering longer on the thick, purple scars that spelled out Black’s first name. 

The arm looked a lot worse than when Severus had last seen it, had applied the healing balm to it, fingers running over a name that would forever be carved into the boy’s flesh- unless one day Harry was healed enough to have it healed completely, his arm left scar-free. Severus doubted that day was soon in coming, and for some reason that pained him all the more to know than seeing the scars did. 

He watched as Harry ran his fingers gently over his arm, holding it beneath the spray of cold water, washing even after the blood had ceased to flow. His head half-bent over his task, bangs falling forward and into his eyes, his body otherwise unmoving as he moved his right hand up, down, up and down over his left arm. Severus’ eyes narrowed getting the feeling that something had just gone decidedly wrong. He reached out to touch softly at the boy’s shoulder. Harry didn’t even flinch at the contact, showing no acknowledgement of the touch whatsoever. 

Severus settled his hand more firmly on Harry’s shoulder, gripping tighter until the boy finally looked up, a glazed look having taking over his unnaturally green eyes, face scarily devoid of any emotion. 

“Harry?” The Gryffindor blinked slowly, almost uncomprehending of the name being spoken. Severus reached forward, putting his fingers beneath the running water, almost flinching back when the sheer ice-cold quality of it sent jolts of pain up his hand. He jerked Harry’s shoulder, pulling the boy towards him as he turned off the tap, spinning the boy round to face him as the whipped out his wand, hurriedly casting a drying and warming charm on the boy’s frigid arm. 

“What do yo-,” Severus’ words were cut off when Harry swayed dangerously, colours dancing before his eyes as he felt his legs give way beneath him, only Severus’ arms stopping him from collapsing to the ground and smacking his head off the cool stone of the floor. His head lolled forward, falling against something firm but soft, the strong smells of aniseed and sandalwood and a deep, earthy musk flooding his senses. 

“Siri…” He managed to mumble against Severus’ chest before consciousness left him and he fell more fully against the Potions Master. 

But the blissful darkness didn’t envelope his mind for long. A voice calling his name penetrated through the grieving haze of his head. He felt something cool against his face, washing, wiping, blissful darkness being pushed away for wretched awareness of the world about him. Arms held him tightly, rocking him, comforting him, calling his name over and over, trying to awaken him.

“Come on, Harry, open your eyes,” A deep voice, worry discernable in the tone if he concentrated enough to look for it. A rumbling voice, a voice that reminded him of someone, someone he couldn’t quite remember, someone he shouldn’t forget. Someone… someone… he felt panic erupt in his chest, eyes springing open, body jerking upwards as he gasped for breath, panting in fear and confusion, heart thudding madly as he tried desperately to remember- who… why… 

“Harry,” He slowly turned his head around to see Severus Snape standing over him, his black eyes giving away nothing of his inner emotions or feelings. Harry ducked his head a little, unsure of what to do, unable to comprehend what had just happened. 

Severus crouched beside him again, waiting until the boy turned to face him once again. “Come, we go to my office. Remus will be there shortly.” When Harry didn’t respond Severus touched at his shoulder, drawing the boy’s attention to him once more. 

“Come,” He stood, holding a hand out to Harry who frowned at the offer before cautiously accepting, sliding his hand into Severus’ his eyes watching Severus carefully, this show of his trust not something he would be willing to extend again. 

Severus averted his eyes from Harry’s soul-searching gaze, tugging at the boy’s hand and pulling him upwards, grabbing at his shoulder to keep him steady as he gained his bearings. With a slight, barely-there squeeze, Severus released Harry’s hand, though he kept ahold of the boy’s shoulder as he turned him and lead them both out of the bathroom. 

They walked in silence down into the dungeons and onwards towards Severus’ office, both lost in their own thoughts, silently thankful that they met no one on the way. The air steadily became cooler as they descended, the occasional drip of water echoing about the stone walls along with their footsteps. 

Harry shivered slightly, not from the cold of the dungeons but from that in his own mind. His thoughts were turned to the incidents that had taken place that night. He understood his reactions to seeing the Dementor, to throwing up in the bathroom. He could see his reasoning is hurting himself to try and calm down, the numb the pain, though he berated himself for being so caught up in his pain that he had lost sight of where he was. 

Anyone could have seen him. Anyone. He wasn’t sure whether to be glad or not that it was Snape who had been the one to find him in the state he was in. And then to have fainted? He felt his cheeks burning at the very memory of it. He usually lost consciousness when unprotected about Dementors, but never had the lingering sense of dejection and coldness they inspired caused him to blackout after the initial incident. 

Harry barely noticed as they entered Snape’s office, Remus and surprisingly to Harry- though perhaps he shouldn’t have been- Draco Malfoy. He gave a watery smile to Remus, his mind still distracted by his inner musings as he allowed himself to be lead to a seat. 

Remus frowned at Harry’s compliant behaviour, making as if to move over to the boy’s side, only the slight jerk to Severus’ head stilled him as the Potion’s Master opened the door to his rooms and entered. Remus shot Harry (and Draco) one last look before following Severus into his rooms, closing the door partially behind him. 

Draco chanced a look at the boy beside him as soon as both Severus and Remus had left, his expression somewhat sour, as Severus had barely acknowledged his existence. His eyes narrowed as he saw the distant look on Harry’s pale face. 

“Potter?” He drawled, calling for the boy’s attention. Harry barely raised his head to meet Draco’s eyes, as he lifted a hand to run it through his hair. 

“What do you want, Malfoy,” His voice sounded tired and beaten, as if he’d lost his drive or something of the likes. 

Draco frowned at him, shifting in his seat to get a better look at the Gryffindor boy; he opened his mouth to speak again- though no words were forthcoming in his mind- when the Remus and Severus entered the room again. The latter of the two holding a potion in his hand, which he promptly gave to Remus as the werewolf moved over to Harry’s side, crouching down beside him and touching at his face. 

Harry looked up at the werewolf and Draco could see the boy’s lip trembling, his eyes filling with tears, making them seem all the more bright and innocent looking without his glasses. Remus coaxed him into drinking a purplish looking liquid that Draco assumed to be a cross between a pepper-up potion and a stomach calming draught. 

Draco looked to Severus knowing the Potions Master had to be aware of the way the ingredients counteracted each other to induce a sharper focus, settled stomach but also acted as a calming draught that would eventually put the drinker into a coma-like sleep a few short hours after consumption. 

Severus’ eyes glittered slightly as he nodded his head to Draco, correctly assuming what it was the boy was thinking. Draco turned his gaze back to Harry, watching as the Gryffindor trustingly drank down the potion, his eyes never leaving Remus’ who was whispering something that Draco couldn’t hear. He saw Harry nodding his head once before Remus wrapped his arms about the boy, cradling him as a parent would a child. 

They remained like that for a long moment, all for occupants silent until Remus shifted, pressing a kiss to Harry’s temple before picking the boy up, lifting him easily in his strong arms, holding him against his chest as he stepped over the fireplace where a warm fire was already crackling away. Harry slipped his arms about Remus’ neck, burying his face into the werewolf’s chest.

“Severus, if you would?” The Potions Master took a handful of floo powder and threw it into the burning hearth, calling out the destination to Remus’ rooms, stepping back and watching as the two of them disappeared with a whoosh of green flames. 

The moment Remus and Harry had left, Severus turned to look at him, his face void of expression though Draco knew he was waiting for him to speak first. 

“Because of the Dementor?” Draco said eventually, his eyes shifting towards the fireplace before flittering back to Severus’ face. 

The Potions Master nodded his dark head, silently answering yes to both the young Slytherins questions: is it because of the Dementor Harry Potter is in the state he’s in? Is it because of the Dementor I’m here? 

“I don’t suppose you would know anything about this evenings fiasco, would you, Draco?” Severus seated himself against his desk, folding his arms as he stared down at the Slytherin boy. 

Draco glared at the man, eyes narrowing once more. “If you’re implying it’s my fault there was a Boggart released on Potter at the ball, then you are very much mistaken, Severus,” 

“I am implying nothing, Draco. Simply asking you a question.”

Draco snorted, folding his arms also. “No you’re not. You think I have something to do with that Boggart.”

“I know you do.”

Draco’s eyes widened in shock, his mouth falling open in a snarl as he prepared to defend himself, but Severus beat him too it. 

“This incident reeks of Slytherin cunning. Being who you are, Mr Malfoy, I fail to see how you could not know about the Boggart to be released. What I am asking you however if you knew it was to be set on Harry Potter!” 

Draco’s glare intensified, “Is that what your precious Potter told you?” He hissed, “Believe what you like, Severus, because I know you won’t believe me. Not when it’s your _Harry_ we’re talking about.” He stood from his seat, “I’ve already been interrogated by the werewolf, and I do not care to have to be interrogated by you also! I thought you trusted me,” 

“I do Draco-,” 

“No, you obviously don’t if you have to question me about it. I’ve had enough for tonight! It’s not my fault Potter’s bloody unstable!”

He stormed over to the door, wrenching it open and stepping out into the hallway.

“Draco, wait,” Severus stood, pausing as the blond boy turned to look at him, a sneer twisting his lips, “Don’t bother coming to find me, Snape, your assistance is not welcomed.” 

“Draco!” Severus strode over to the door, but Draco was already running down the hallway, no doubt heading to his room. Severus released a sigh, raising a hand to run across his face, he felt his mask instead. With a growl he muttered the spell to release the second-skin like covering throwing it into his office with a snarl before stepping out into the hallway and closing his office door behind him. 

Draco needed to cool down, yes, but not at the expense that he got himself into the same kind of states Severus’ usually found him in. His face set in a determined expression, Severus set after the blond boy, his mind automatically guiding him on his way to Draco’s room. 

\- - -

**To Be Continued…?**   
_A/N: Hey there, ladies and gentlemen! Hope you’re all still enjoying BR, I can tell you how relieved I am to be back on writing the odd numbered chapters- it just felt so ‘wrong’ writing an even one, and I know Aurora felt just the same about her experience with the odd one- hope our rather irrational discomfort over it all didn’t show! On that note however, if there is anything you read in BR that you don’t like, or you think isn’t up to our usual standard, then tell us! As much as we adore them (and we really do!) positive and praising reviews aren’t all we crave, I’m saying this only because though the number of reads every chapter receives is continuing to grow, the number of reviews we’re getting for each chapter isn’t :( yes, yes, we’re greedy little bitches, but you guys have spoiled us with your feedback, so please keep up with it!_  
Apologies to those of you we told we’d be updating this chapter last night, my fault that one, I was just so tired I only managed to get half of it done before I fell into my bed, dead to the world- full time work 6days a week is not recommended people! Thank god it’s only for two weeks! So anywho, here’s your chapter and I hope you like it, I’m feeling very happy with it myself so let us know, okay?  
Thanks for reading!  
Peace,   
CS WhiteWolf 

\- - -


	30. Chapter XXX

  
Author's notes: "You're beyond now- redemption, and no one's going to catch you when you fall." Harry’s back at Hogwarts. His allegiances are wavering. It’s only a matter of time… [Slash, self-harm, eating disorders, drug use…]  


* * *

** Beyond Redemption **   
_By Sisters of Darkness_

\- - -

For this Chapter:

**Rating(s)** : NC17.  
 **Pairing(s)** : Draco Malfoy/ Severus Snape.  
 **Warning(s)** : Adult Language; Drug Use; Sexual Situations.

\- - -

**Chapter XXX**   
_By Aurora Enkeli Medeis_

**T** rust. It was something that Draco had assumed was a part of loving someone. Apparently not, it would seem, as he stormed his way through the corridors of Hogwarts. Music from inside the Great Hall followed him; the Halloween Ball having continued after the Boggart had been disposed of. With only circumstantial evidence, Severus has instantly jumped to the conclusion that Draco was to blame for the incident. Where was the trust now? Of course, everything else is cast aside when Potter comes into play. Something tragic happens to poor fucked up Potter and instantly Draco Malfoy is to blame.

Draco snarled as he reached the familiar room and the top of the castle, dust and grime swirling around the bottom of his robes as he slammed the door closed behind him. It was still in quite a state from the night Draco had last been there. A desk was still smashed, the glass pane of the window still missing and there were dried patches of blood dotted around the room. It seemed not even Dumbledore or Filch knew about this room. 

The cold night breeze blew in the hole where the window had long since fallen from, bringing with it specks of the light rain that was falling outside. Draco pulled out a chair from under a desk and sat down heavily, the rotted wood creaking and cracking between his light weight. He dropped his head into his hands, running them through his blond hair. From this brief calm he lashed out, kicking his right foot upwards and knocking the leg from a nearby desk, causing it to crash to the floor. His mask from earlier that evening was still, after all this time, clutched in his left hand and he growled as he tossed it across the room.

He closed his eyes as he rubbed his temples, seeing the watery innocence of Potter’s eyes as he had been led from Severus office. Was this why Severus was seemed to want Potter so much? Because he was so completely different to Draco? That innocence and naivety that still seemed so prevalent no matter what he experienced. Potter would be soft spoken, willing to listen unlike Draco who was sarcastic and would lash out at any given second.

Perhaps that was it. The Inner Circle had had their fun with Draco and now it was time to move on to something new. He had been assured that he wasn’t going to lose them but it seemed less and less likely that they wouldn’t drift from him.

_And whose fault is that?_

He heard the voice in his head, still sounding like Severus, asking him. Well it was a stupid question. It was Potter’s fault. Wasn’t it?

_No._

“Shut up.” Draco actually shouted out loud, his hands beginning to shake. Potter hadn’t asked to be welcomed into the IC had he?

_No._

Potter had not made any clear indication that he was trying to steal Severus’ love from him had he?

_No._

Draco sighed, leaning back in his chair, pressing shaking hands into his eyes. He had often sat and contemplated this situation and it had so often come down to the topic of Severus. His father, Draco knew, wasn’t someone he could lose, they were flesh and blood after all but… Severus saw so much of himself in Potter. Draco had, on occasion, caught the look in Severus’ eye at the mention of Potter, seeing the fact that the Potions Master almost had a compulsive urge to help the boy. 

Draco was, by nature, intelligent and insightful even if at the times he was too self-righteous to see things clearly. He hated Potter but he could see from the Dark Lord and Severus’ points of view. In Severus’ office, Potter had looked exhausted as if he was simply growing weary of the pathetic bickering and hatred. Draco groaned, pulling the silver chain from beneath his robes. Understanding Potter, Draco snorted to himself, and that was without any sort of drug in his system.

He didn’t know if he _could_ accept Potter. Seeing and understand the perspective of the other IC members was one thing but _sharing_ their point of view was a completely different matter.

Draco unscrewed the head of the snake, powder scooped into a small heap on the end of the silver spatula. He lifted it to his nose carefully, a few grains of the cocaine dropping onto his robes. Clamping one nostril shut, Draco snorted with the other, inhaling as much of the dosage as he could. He rubbed at his eyes as tears formed briefly before drying again. 

Scooping up some more, he brought it to his nose at the same moment the door swung open and bounced off the wall. Draco froze, his back was to the door so he quickly screwed the snakehead back on and stood up. Turning round, he saw, as expected, Severus standing in the doorway, arms folded over his chest. Before Draco could even think about what he was doing and everything he had earlier thought, his lips were contorting into a sneer.

“I told you that your assistance would not be welcome Severus.” He spat. The Potions Master’s dark eyes narrowed as he slammed the door shut. Draco took a warning step around the chair, eyes glittering maliciously. “So if you would please get away from me. I’m sure _Harry_ could use some comfort, why don’t you go to him?”

Severus eyed Draco critically. The room was dark but he had seen effects of cocaine often enough to spot the signs from far away, Draco knew. He also knew that the small amount stuck to his robes wasn’t helping the situation but he held Severus’ glare. The Potions Master stalked forward menacingly. Draco exerted as much self-control as he could, trying not to show the sudden wave of fear that had come over him. He had been caught. Severus knew he still had cocaine. Soon his father would know, then the Dark Lord and it would be a strong dose of disappointment all round.

The Potions Master reached out a hand, pulling on the snake pendent so roughly that Draco was jerked forward as the chain snapped. Severus studied the pendent before spotting the obvious join between the snakes head and body. He unscrewed it, cocaine falling from the spatula onto the floor. Furious obsidian eyes met, now, obviously fearful silver and Severus held Draco’s gaze as he turned the body of the snake upside down, pouring its contents onto the stone floor. Draco’s eyes went wide as he watched his drugs mingling on the floor with the layers of dust.

Severus dropped the chain and pendent as Draco took a step backwards, the backs of he legs connecting with the chair. With an agile movement, Draco rounded the chair, taking several more steps backwards from an advancing Severus. When in love with someone, as Draco very much was with Severus, it is not often that his or hers true temper is seen. As a Slytherin and a Malfoy, Draco was an expert at appearing unfazed by a person’s wrath but even he couldn’t disguise how very terrifying he was finding Severus.

The man had pulled himself up to full height, fists clenched tightly at his sides and nostrils flaring as he took calculatedly slow steps towards Draco. The blond stepped backwards until he back collided with a wall. Draco’s silver eyes went wide- he was really fucked now. Severus stood, bringing them toe to toe as he glared down at the blond boy. Draco was waiting for the inevitable admonishments and lecture but the never came. Severus gripped the young Slytherin’s chin harshly between long fingers, bending his head so they were almost level. Draco quite audibly swallowed, the air in the room hanging thick around them, as Severus’ pause seemed to go on forever. 

Finally, with little warning and no gentleness, Severus smashed his lips into Draco’s, completely taking the blond by surprise. Draco gasped, giving Severus the opportunity he needed to slide a hot tongue into the blonde’s mouth. Whatever Draco had been expecting, it wasn’t this. Getting over his initial shock, Draco moved his tongue against Severus’, lips pushing together so hard that his teeth were cutting into them. Draco tried to wrap an arm around Severus’ neck but the Potions Master grabbed it quickly, slamming it into the wall above Draco’s head, gripping almost painfully at the blonde’s wrist. 

Draco tried to protest, bringing up his other hand but finding it too slammed above his head. Severus continued the assault on Draco’s mouth, teeth nipping and sucking at the blonde’s bottom lip. Severus took both Draco’s thin wrists in his left hand, right hand running slowly down the boy’s chest. Draco arched his back slightly, pulling from the kiss, panting as he moaned. Severus slid a hand into Draco’s robes as he fastened his lips around the blonde’s earlobe. Quickly and nimbly, Severus slipped his hand into the boxers beneath Draco’s dress robes, pulling the hardening length from its silk confines.

Draco gasped, the cold air of the room and the heat of Severus’ palm contrasting as they reached his cock. The Potions Master ran his hand up the length; thumb smearing the gathering pre-cum. Draco bucked his hips, silently begging Severus to move. Kissing a path down the curve of pale neck, Severus sank his teeth in, biting, sucking and marking the skin as he curled his fingers around Draco’s cock and began pumping it slowly. 

“Severus…” Draco gasped, writhing against the wall under the Potions Master’s administrations. Draco shifted his leg slightly, bringing it between Severus’ and pushing up with his thigh. Severus groaned around the skin he was sucking on, vibrations travelling down Draco’s spine and causing him to shiver.

Draco felt the hardness in Severus’ robes grind down into his thigh, the Potions Master moaned again, letting go of the blonde’s neck and kissing back up towards his mouth. Draco caught Severus’ bottom lip between his teeth, pulling on it until the Potions Master forced his tongue into Draco’s mouth as the blond thrust his knee upwards again, massaging the hard bulge in Severus’ robes. The dark haired man moaned low in his throat, the sensual sound sending jolts of pleasure through Draco’s body. The blond kissed Severus harder, the embrace increasing in pace as Severus’ hand picked up its movements, his hips rolling down against Draco’s thigh. 

Sweat began to pool on Draco’s forehead as his hips thrust mindlessly, connecting his thigh with Severus groin. He was moaning louder now, babbling incoherent nonsense as Severus latched onto his neck again, claiming him. Another low moan and three quick paced pumps of fist was all it took until Draco let out a strangled scream, his entire body tensing as he climaxed. Draco’s back arched repeatedly in pleasure from the wall as Severus grinded himself forcefully against Draco’s thigh. Moments later, he too was climaxing, hot spurts of his release coating the inside of his boxers as he let out a loud groan, head falling onto Draco’s shoulder.

The stood in an almost silence, the only sounds in the room being their heavy breathing and the wind. After a few minutes, Severus finally moved, taking his wand from inside his robes and cast a cleaning charm on Draco and himself before tucking it back into his robes. He took a few steps backwards, Draco still standing limp against the stone wall.

“You will give the rest of drugs to me.” Severus stated simply. Draco nodded, keeping his head down. Severus’ expression softened minutely, “I do not wholly agree with your father’s approach of making you quit- ‘cold turkey’ I believe it’s called.” Severus explained, causing Draco to look up in surprise. It was rare for anyone to disagree with Lucius Malfoy, even Severus. “You will come to me when you feel you require a hit and I will monitor your usage until it is appropriate to stop using it altogether.”

Draco nodded again. It was more than fair. Severus was trying to help him. Draco realised that Severus couldn't have completely given up on him. Although Draco had known that the moment their lips had connected, it was the perfect use of direct reassurance in his opinion. Severus took a long breath before speaking again.

“Did you play any part in the release of the Boggart earlier this evening?” He asked. Draco glared at Severus’ question, standing up from the wall even though he still felt a little lightheaded from his orgasm.

“No. I told you I didn’t, don’t you…” Severus held up a hand to stop the predictable Malfoy tirade that he was about to suffer.

“I believe you, Draco.” He told the blond who looked genuinely shocked but covered it quickly. “You should get some rest.” Severus said before turning on his heel, robes sweeping up a curl of dust. As Severus opened the door several comments lingered on Draco’s tongue and with a moment’s hesitation he called after the Potions Master.

“It wasn’t meant for Potter though…” Draco said and Severus turned round briefly before nodding once and leaving the room.

Draco sighed as he sat himself down on a dilapidated desk, running a hand through his now messed blond hair. Severus had certainly proved a point, Draco mused, now leaving him here with too many thoughts that left him conflicted and no cocaine to ease the craving that still pounded through his body.

\- - -

**To Be Continued…?**   
_A/N: Right then sweethearts, I want a word with you all. As deliriously happy as I am that you all choose to review because really, I am, I don’t know how much I enjoy this constant hatred of Draco. So hopefully you can perhaps see from his point of view and even find a little sympathy for the poor boy after this chapter. Although I won’t hold my breath! Anyway, thanks go to the reviewers who came out the closet for the last chapter and I urge you to stay out and proud! The next chapter will be out in a few days as I am making sure CS and I post a good few chapters before we go away for five days next week!_  
Thanks and take care sweethearts.  
Aurora Enkeli Medeis. 

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	31. Chapter XXXI

  
Author's notes: "You're beyond now- redemption, and no one's going to catch you when you fall." Harry’s back at Hogwarts. His allegiances are wavering. It’s only a matter of time… [Slash, self-harm, eating disorders, drug use…]  


* * *

** Beyond Redemption **   
_By Sisters of Darkness_

\- - -

For this Chapter:

**Rating(s)** : R/NC-17-Rated.  
 **Pairing(s)** : Remus Lupin/Harry Potter. Mentions of Harry Potter/Sirius Black (Padfoot); Remus Lupin/Severus Snape.  
 **Warning(s)** : Mentions of Self-Harm and Bestiality (blink and you’ll miss it!)

\- - -

**Chapter XXXI**   
_By CS WhiteWolf_

Remus easily stepped from the fireplace and into his rooms with Harry still safely secured in his arms. The raven-haired teen had his face pressed into his chest, arms wrapped tightly about Remus’ neck as if he intended never to let go. 

The werewolf walked over towards the couch, gently lowering Harry onto the battered brown material, extracting himself from his arms despite Harry’s muffled protests. 

“Hush, cub,” Remus soothed, sitting beside the boy, immediately finding himself with a lap full of Harry, as the boy moved to cushion his head, his hands once again finding purchase in the werewolf’s robes. 

Remus felt his heart clench as he reached out to stroke Harry’s unruly mop, his other hand moving to rub at the small of the boy’s back, soothing him as best he could whilst the boy was in this… state.

Harry turned his head a little, eyes that were bright and coherent- unlike the glazed over and unseeing look they had held before Harry had taken Severus’ potion- looked up to meet his chocolate-brown gaze. Though the boy’s face was eerily devoid of expression, it was his eyes that shone with all the suppressed emotions he contained. 

“I’m sorry, Moony,” Harry whispered, a tear leaking from his eyes and running inches down his face before curving over his nose, Remus brushed his thumb over the tear, stopping it in it’s tracks.

“You have nothing to be sorry for, Harry,” He recalled Severus’ words to him as they’d conversed in his rooms before Remus had brought Harry up to his rooms. 

The Potions Master had been rather concerned over Harry’s frame of mind, over his stability. He’d told Remus what he’d witnessed in the boy’s bathrooms, described the way Harry was scratching at his arm, unnervingly fascinated with the blood upon his finger tips, the way he’d simply obeyed Severus without thought, without any of his usual defiance, the way he’d fallen into Severus with Sirius’ name upon his lips.

“What happened tonight, Harry?” Remus asked, voice thickened with emotion as he ran his fingers through Harry’s hair. 

“I- it…” his breath caught in his throat and he turned his eyes away for a moment, “Do you blame me, Remus?” he questioned, “Do you blame me for Sirius’ death?” 

“What?” Remus sucked in a sharp breath, “Harry, no!” He was quick to take the boy’s chin in his hand, turning Harry’s face gently until the boy was facing him, “I’ve told you, Harry, it’s not your fault Sirius died.”

“If not mine, then who’s to blame?” The words, eerily echoing those he’d asked only months before but never wanted an answer for. Remus kept his eyes focussed on Harry’s though he hesitated in how to answer. 

Harry dropped his gaze first, fingers fiddling with one of the buttons on Remus’ robe. 

“Harry, what’s brought this on? Was it… did the Dementor show you something about Sirius?” 

Harry nodded mutely.

“What happened?” Remus urged, “What did you see, Harry?”

“It was my parents to start with. I heard their screaming, saw the light. But then… then it was just gone and Sirius was there. Sirius was falling through the veil and in my head I heard his voice and he was blaming me, telling me I’d killed him.”

Remus pulled Harry towards him. “Sirius would never blame you, Harry, never.” Remus all but growled into his ear, “And you should not blame yourself. What you saw- you shouldn’t have, the Dementors should not have such an affect on you, not with this too.” He pulled away, holding the boy at arms length, “It’s not your fault Harry,”

Harry settled back on his elbows, chin pressing to chest as he avoided the werewolf’s penetrating stare, “I know Bellatrix was the one who fired the curse that knocked him into the veil,” he began tentatively, Remus nodded his head though Harry couldn’t see the motion, there was a long moment of silence before Harry pushed himself up into a sitting position, turning to face Remus more fully, “I know that she was there on Voldemort’s orders,”

Remus smiled sadly, giving the boy’s shoulder a tight squeeze. 

“I blame myself for him dying,” Harry whispered. Remus opened his mouth to protest, pausing only at Harry’s shake of head, “but I blame Voldemort and Dumbledore too,” 

Remus nodded slowly, taking Harry’s hand in his own, “You don’t have to join with either of them,” he implored.

Harry dropped his head, “I do. We both know in the end I will have to choose. I- I find myself wanting to…” 

“Wanting to?” 

“I think,” Harry began softly, “I think that I may end up giving Voldemort my allegiance,”

Remus’ eyes widened fractionally, “Are you sure?”

Harry bit his lip with a shrug, “No.” he sighed heavily, “Does- does this make me a bad person, Remus? For thinking to join with the very man who killed my parents, who played a part in Sirius’ death?” 

“No, Harry, never. You’re not a bad person, no matter what side you choose you will still have your morals and your beliefs, Neither side can make you change who and what you are,” He squeezed Harry’s hand gently.

“Did you love Sirius?” 

Remus frowned, both at the question and the slight change of subject, “You know I did,”

“More than you love Snape?” 

Remus looked mildly started at the question, “You presume I love Severus,” 

Harry frowned, “Don’t you?” 

Remus shook his head, not in answer to the question but in order to show he would not answer Harry’s inquiry. 

“Why are you asking?” He eventually asked. 

Harry looked away, “How could you forgive him? When his lord helped kill Sirius?”

“The same way I forgave you,” 

Harry looked up in shock, his expression closing over as he obviously tried to school not only his expression but his thoughts also, as he made to move off the couch. 

“I’m sorry,” he muttered for the second time that evening, trying to pull away from Remus who’d gently grabbed ahold of his shoulders, stilling his movements and preventing him from leaving. 

“You misunderstand me, Harry.” Remus said, his voice soft.

“Your words were plain enough,” Harry muttered. 

“Perhaps, but I have no doubt you misinterpreted them,” he lifted Harry’s chin upwards, meeting the boy’s anguished gaze, “I forgave Severus in the same way I forgave you- in that there was nothing to forgive. Neither of you are responsible for the actions of others. Though I will not lie to you, Harry and say that I didn’t blame either of you for a moment in time. I blamed everyone when I saw him fall through that veil. 

“And yet I knew no one was to blame but Sirius himself for leaving the house, Voldemort for luring you to the Department and Dumbledore for not informing you of the truth. If I’d truly blamed you, Harry, do you think I would have held you back?”

Harry’s heart thumped in his chest as Remus’ words registered with him, the older man’s eyes were shining with a slight amber-hue to them. Harry took a shaky breath, dropping his eyes. 

“You would have let me go after him?” 

“Only if I’d truly believed you were responsible.” He reached out to stroke at Harry’s cheek, “Do not mistake me, I loved Sirius- once as a lover, but then only as a brother, losing him was like losing the last of my pack mates.”

“I sometimes wish you’d never held me back,” Harry whispered. 

“I know, cub. But I did, and you’re here now,” He held out his arms, inviting Harry into an embrace, which he accepted- holding the boy close as Harry leaned against his chest. “You don’t want to die, do you, Harry?” 

Remus’ rubbed at Harry’s back as the boy tensed, hesitating in his answer; he shifted his head slightly, pushing his face into Remus’ neck. 

“No,” he eventually said, his voice muffled, but Remus’ keen ears picked out the word easily, “Though I… I sometimes wish I would.” 

“You mustn’t think like that, Harry,” He tightened his hold on the boy, resting his cheek atop his head. 

“I can’t help it, Moony.” He tightened his own hold on the werewolf, fingers clenching at the older man’s robes desperately, his voice breaking slightly as he next spoke, “I just… I don’t know what’s keeping me here most of the time.” 

“Oh, Harry,” Remus kissed the top of his head, moving down to press a kiss to Harry’s earlobe and then his neck, anywhere he could reach with his lips and his arms locked them securely together. 

Harry shifted, pressing his own set of kisses to Remus’ neck and trailing them upwards and across the man’s slightly stubbled jaw until their mouths met, lips moving frantically against each other, the kiss sloppy and needy. There was nothing sexual about the kiss, only the sharing of their desperation and need as Harry whimpered into their kiss, pressing his body close to Remus’ with need, seeking the comfort that only the werewolf could seem to give him.

Remus felt Harry’s hot tears as they fell from his eyes, splashing against the werewolf’s cheeks. He opened his eyes, watching through hooded gaze as the liquid droplets ran down the boy’s face. He reached up, cupping Harry’s face in his hands, thumbs swiping at the skin just below his eyes, wiping away the slow tears as they fell.

Their kiss slowed, their frantic movements becoming little more than brushes of lips across lips. Harry blinked his eyes, fluttering his eyelashes as he felt his tears clinging to them. He caught Remus watching him, the werewolf’s eyes were flecked with the wolf’s amber ones once again. Harry pulled away from the kiss, licking at his lips a moment. 

He could not help the thoughts racing across his mind, thoughts of Remus being taken over by the wolf inside him. Did Remus ever let himself loose like that? Or was he always the controlled man he portrayed himself as being, with only that hint of something more, something deeper and darker? He wondered if the wolf would be as passionate as Padfoot in his lovemaking, if not more so. 

Strangely he wondered if Snape liked Remus the way he represented himself or if he preferred the werewolf when it was nearer to the full moon, when the wolf was closer to the surface. He found himself considering who would be the more dominant of the two and oddly, considering the thought, found himself contemplating on whether or not Snape could be tender and loving, if there was more to the man than just his stern disposition. 

Harry licked his lips once more, blinking his eyes at the images such thoughts procured before his minds eye, only to find Remus watching him with a hungry look in his eyes when Harry turned his attention back upon the older man, almost as if he’d read Harry’s thoughts and liked what he had seen. But then Harry blinked and the look was gone, replaced by Remus’ usual brown-eyed, concerned gaze. 

Remus leaned in and pressed a short kiss to Harry’s reddened lips, a kiss different from their previous one. Harry could almost taste the need on Remus’ lips as they moved sensuously over his own. He leaned into it, releasing himself into it for the short while it lasted. 

When Remus pulled away it was with a somewhat desperate expression upon his face as if the very motion pained him, he touched reverently at Harry’s face, eyes pleading as he spoke, “Promise me, Harry. Promise me that whatever happens, no matter how bad it gets, you’ll come to me before you even think about ending it all?” 

“I’m not suicidal, Moony,” Harry said instead, swallowing against a dry throat, his words laced with insecurity and doubt. 

Remus gripped the boy’s face, “Please, Harry,”

The dark-haired teen nodded jerkily, “Okay,”

Remus gave a satisfied tilt to his head. “Thank you.”

Harry tried to smile at the man beside him, but found he could not muster the energy for such an action; his eyes became suddenly heavy, his body shutting down as if to sleep. He looked frantically to Remus who gave a tight smile, gently lowering Harry to a more comfortable position on the couch. 

“Severus’ potion, acts as a sleeping draught after a while,” He mentioned. But Harry was too tired to respond, merely offering up a yawn as Remus conjured a blanket and draped it over him, tucking it up to his chin and pressing a kiss to his forehead, just above his scar. 

And before Harry drifted off into the land of dreams and nightmares, he felt strangely warm and safe- loved even for the first time since Sirius’ death as he was tucked in for the night. 

“Goodnight, cub,” Remus whispered. But Harry was already asleep. 

\- - -

**To Be Continued…?**   
_A/N: Sisters of Darkness would like to thank everyone who reviewed last chapter- that was the most review’s we’ve received on a single chapter yet and we cannot tell you guys how psyched we were with each new review! So please, please, keep it up and review for this chapter!_  
As we’ve been mentioning in some review responses, Aurora and myself are off to Download late next week and will be away for about a week, we’ll try and get a few more chapter up for you guys before then though so no worries, plus, as a special thank you to everyone for sticking with us (and to tide you over till we’re back) we’re going to try and finish the two BR side stories we’re working on (yes more side stories! Yeah!) So look out for them!  
Also, as a side note, we’ll be adding the chapters of BR to our [LiveJournal](http://www.livejournal.com/users/br_inner_circle) (backdated) so for anyone who uses LJ just add us to your friends and you’ll be receiving all the latest BR news on chapters/side stories/etc, (when we remember to update of course! :D )  
Peace,   
CS WhiteWolf 

\- - -


	32. Chapter XXXII

  
Author's notes: "You're beyond now- redemption, and no one's going to catch you when you fall." Harry’s back at Hogwarts. His allegiances are wavering. It’s only a matter of time… [Slash, self-harm, eating disorders, drug use…]  


* * *

** Beyond Redemption **   
_By Sisters of Darkness_

\- - -

For this Chapter:

**Rating(s)** : R-Rated.  
 **Pairing(s)** : Draco Malfoy/ Severus Snape.  
 **Warning(s)** : Adult Language; Drug Use.

\- - -

**Chapter XXXII**   
_By Aurora Enkeli Medeis_

**N** ot even twenty-four hours had passed since the incident during the Halloween Ball and already Draco was on the verge of hexing the next person who mentioned it. It hadn’t escaped most people’s notice that after Potter fled the hall, Draco was ordered out by Lupin. Subsequently, those people had told others who had told others and thus the unfortunate cycle that was a side effect of living in a boarding school began. 

Naturally everyone had jumped to the same conclusion- Draco was to blame. Now, if Draco actually had been to blame for it, he would have been pleased that everyone was talking about it, but he wasn’t. He’d tried to help Potter out and yet the Boggart still sought out the Gryffindor. Fate, Draco reckoned, had a fantastic way of kicking you in crotch when you really didn’t need it.

His Slytherin cronies had apologised for landing the blame on him but Draco could easily tell that they didn’t mean it- sincere apologies weren’t a Slytherin strong suit. Which made what he had planned for that evening all the more difficult. 

First, a trip to Severus was in order. 

As Draco left the common room and swaggered his way down the corridors, he told himself that he was going to see Severus as the Potions Master was now in possession of his large bag of cocaine. The real reason, that Draco was unlikely to admit, was that he simply wanted to see the man. 

Something had shifted between the two of them the night before. It wasn’t what had happened against the wall that had caused it, far from it. The whole shift had come about because of trust. Severus had trusted Draco on his word alone that he had nothing to do with the release of the Boggart. In turn, Severus was actively going to help Draco kick his drug habit. 

In Draco’s mind, that was some consolation and reassurance that he perhaps wasn’t going to lose Severus to Potter, or the werewolf. The knowledge meant a lot to Draco, but he would never admit that either.

Draco swung open the door of the potions classroom, shutting it quickly behind him. He strode across the room and knocked sharply twice on the door of the office before sauntering inside and closing it behind him. 

“Good evening, Draco.” Severus said, not looking up from the parchment he was scowling at. 

“Evening, Severus.” Draco replied as he stepped around the desk, leaning over to see what the Potions Master was so annoyed with. Draco scanned the misspelled words and grammatically awful sentences before he too scowled, “Do these pupils know nothing?” He asked, the ends of his hair brushing over the shell of Severus’ ear.

“Apparently not.” Severus responded simply, “Is there something you needed, Draco?” 

Normally Draco would have taken this seemingly cold response personally but given the pile of second year essays sitting on the desk, the blond didn’t think too much of it. Before Draco could respond, Severus had spoken up again.

“The cocaine is in my drawer if that is what you are here for.” He stated, scribbling through an entire line of writing with red ink. Draco nodded, leaning down further to open the drawer and pull out the bag. As he shut the drawer and stood up, Draco tilted his face just enough so that his lips brushed over Severus’ cheek. The Potions Master turned his head quickly, catching Draco’s lips in a chaste kiss before the blond pulled away and Severus went back to scowling at the essay.

Draco set about tipping powder onto a spare bit of desk as he sat down in the chair across from Severus. In his drawer, the Potions Master had also had a segment of straw and a piece of parchment that Draco used to push the powder around.

“One line, Draco.” Severus ordered and Draco nodded silently, sweeping the excess drugs back into the bag and sealing it. 

He hadn’t been requiring a hit but as soon as the thought had crossed his mind and he saw the powder laid out in front of him his hand had begun to shake slightly. Straw at his nostril, Draco leant over and snorted his way up the line, blinking a couple of times before wiping his nose. He looked up to see Severus watching. Draco was waiting for a comment but one did not come as Severus reached over, plucking the bag, parchment and straw away from Draco and putting them back into his desk.

Draco sat back and closed his eyes, feeling the slight high take him over. His body had such a resistance to the drugs now that he barely felt the euphoria and feelings of self-worth increasing. Either that or he was already so egotistical that drugs made little difference. Draco snorted out loud at his own thoughts, causing Severus to look up quizzically from the desk. Draco steeled his expression, thankful that the cocaine may help with that evening’s task.

“I will leave you to your marking.” Draco said, as he stood from the chair in one fluid motion. Severus nodded once, crossing out something on the essay before looking up.

“Goodbye, Draco.” He replied. The blond braced his hands on the desk as he leant over, pleased to see Severus’ eyes flicker closed as their lips brushed. Draco pushed their mouths together a little harder, flicking his tongue once over Severus’ lips before pulling away slightly.

“Thank you.” He whispered before standing up straight as if he had said nothing at all. “Goodbye, Severus.” Draco said with a curt nod before turning on his heel and striding from the room. He made his way through the dark dungeon corridors and up the stairs into the Entrance Hall, one destination in mind- Potter’s favoured room in the Astronomy Tower.

A good few minutes later found Draco standing at the door of the room, hand unwilling to reach for the handle. His cocaine high was wearing off very swiftly and he sorely needed a boost of confidence to push the door open. After all, he had not one shred of Gryffindor bravery in him. He sighed heavily, wishing he still had his coveted snake pendent draped around his neck as his resolution set. He owed this to the IC, to his father and to Severus. That, however, didn’t mean he was happy about this _brilliant_ idea his brain had concocted and was forcing him to go through with. 

With one last sigh, Draco swung open the door, striding in as if he had not been standing hesitating about his course of action. He shut the door over, breathing in the arid smell from Potter’s cigarettes, suppressing the look of distaste he could feel creeping over his features. 

“What do you want, Malfoy?” Potter asked, not turning from where he was gazing out the window. Draco, who was momentarily taken aback by Potter speaking first, stepped into the centre of the room, keeping a reasonable amount of distance between the two of them.

“I simply wished to have a civil conversation, Potter, if you are capable of that?” Shit, Draco instantly shouted at himself. He really did have a problem when it came to his brain and mouth functioning on the same terms. Potter leant back on the wall of the alcove, taking a long drag on the cigarette and flicking some ash out the window. Draco briefly wondered if a falling cigarette butt had ever struck anyone. 

“Just get lost, Malfoy.” Potter all but sighed as he blew a puff of smoke out the window. Draco took a step closer, getting a better look at Potter’s face. Now Draco had seen the Gryffindor in an awful state on several occasions but the blond now found himself with the smallest hint of concern for the brunette. The dark circles beneath his eyes were so pronounced that Potter now looked only a fraction more lively than a fresh corpse. Draco frowned- the potion Severus gave him should have given him a good nights sleep. Though, the blond then reasoned, it would take at least a month of continual sleep to return Potter back to his normal state. 

“No,” Draco replied eventually, “I wanted to say that I’m sorry for what happened to you at the Ball.” Merlin he hated himself sometimes, Draco thought as he dropped himself into a chair. Potter’s eyes narrowed but he didn’t look round.

“I thought it _wasn’t_ your fault?” The dark haired boy replied and Draco had to grit his teeth and restrain himself from shoving Potter out the window. This attempt at civility would not go well if Potter continued to reply in such a sarcastic way.

“I never said it was my fault Potter.” Draco said in response, barely able to avoid spitting the words out, “I was merely saying I was sorry that it happened to you.” Draco’s hands were tightened into fists on his lap but he unclenched them as Potter finally looked round.

“So this is pity then?” He asked before turning back to look out the window and taking another drag of tobacco. Draco snorted.

“Don’t flatter yourself, Potter. I hardly feel sorry _for_ you. I’m sorry about what happened _to_ you.” Draco glared across at Potter, mentally willing him just to slip an inch to the left and drop the however many feet it was to the ground below. No doubt Draco would be blamed of course. 

Potter exhaled his smoke, flicking the remnants of the cigarette out the window before sliding off the windowsill (not the way that led to the hard ground below, Draco noted dejectedly) and stepping across the room slightly. In an instinctive, defensive gesture, Draco got up from his seat, fists clenched at his sides.

“What about all the other things that have happened to me? Huh Malfoy? All the things that you _should_ be apologising for?” Potter’s eyes narrowed dangerously and Draco was almost pleased to see that there was life still left in the brunette. Before Draco could reply, Potter took a step closer and spoke again.

“How about apologising for over five years worth of taunting?” Potter stepped closer again, “Or Landing me detention in first year?” Draco scowled.

“You always step up to those taunts Potter, you fire right back at me and, if you’ll think back to first year, I ended up in that detention as well” Draco replied. Potter took another step towards the blond, fingers flexing into fists.

“How about playing on your injury in third year to try and get Buckbeak executed? Not to mention the _Dementor_ prank?” Potter countered and Draco put his hands on his hips.

“That hippogriff mauled me! And because of that prank I was hit with a Patronus which was also very painful I’ll have you know.” Draco said sincerely as Potter rolled his eyes, coming another step nearer.

“Then there was the lovely ‘Potter Stinks’ campaign in fourth year?”

“Those badges also supported Cedric Diggory, I was simple showing my school spirit by supporting my preferred champion.” Draco replied coolly, pleased to notice that Potter was showing obvious signs of exasperation at Draco’s ability to counter every comment.

“Getting me banned from Quidditch last year?” Potter stepped forward, bringing them nearly toe-to-toe. 

“You attacked me on the pitch, it was your own fault.” Draco said, seeing the look in Potter’s eyes when he realised that Draco was right.

“What about purposefully winding me up for the last two months?” Potter took a deep breath, signalling that he was out of arguments. Draco folded his arms, brushing Potter’s chest slightly with the movement as silver eyes narrowed at the brunette in front of him.

“Have you never stopped to think,” Draco began, his voice low as he leant his face in closer, “that the only time you seem to show any emotion is when I’m winding you up? Has it never occurred to you that me winding you up is one of few things that makes you feel?” Potter’s eyes went wide and he pushed Draco out of the way and stepped past him. Shit, Draco thought for probably the hundredth time, this wasn’t how this was meant to go.

“Fine, Potter,” Draco called to the Gryffindor, Potter turned and Draco hesitated. This was for the IC, he told himself, he owed them all this, “I have been a complete dick and… I apologise.” Draco couldn’t actually believe the words had come out and sounded sincere. Life was filled with wonderful and surprising things sometimes. 

Potter stepped back up to Draco, their faces close again. Draco was quickly reminded of how much he loathed the boy in front of him. He wasn’t a boy though, neither of them was or had been for a long time and that similarity did not please Draco at all. It didn’t make him want to hit Potter any less though.

“Malfoy, you can take your apology and shove it up your arse for all I care.” Draco snapped, he really could not take any more of Potter. So with hands firmly on the brunette’s shoulders, Draco shoved Potter away from him. Shit to his temper, Draco thought as Potter stumbled backwards and glared before stepping forward and pushing Draco roughly to the side, causing the blond to collide with a table.

Potter stormed passed Draco, the door smacking off the wall with the force it was wrenched open with before he stomped his way down the corridor and disappeared down the staircase. Draco blinked a couple of times in shock before shaking his head and sitting on a desk. 

“For fucks sake!” Draco groaned to the empty room, “ _That_ went well.” He said as he kicked the chair that was sitting in front of him. He ran his hands through his hair a couple of times, swearing under his breath. That was what he got for bothering to apologise and be civil. 

After several minutes of stewing on the fact that Potter had actually had the audacity to reject an apology from someone who rarely apologises, Draco jumped from the table and stormed out the room, slamming the door behind him.

Draco rarely paid any attention when he stormed through corridors as people tended to move out of his way quicker than they would if a Blast-Ended Screwt were rampaging through the school. On this night that had already gone so swimmingly, fate once again gave Draco a swift kick in the groin.

Halfway along a corridor he collided with someone and was ready to reprimand them when he looked up to find himself met with the gold-flecked, brown eyes of Professor Lupin. Draco clearly looked at breaking point as the werewolf frowned.

“Is something the matter, Mr Malfoy?” Lupin asked in that deceptively calm tone of his. Draco resisted the urge to roll his eyes. No, he was just storming through corridors, walking into Professors for the hell of it. The blond stopped himself from snapping as he stared at Lupin. 

Certainly there was something soothing about the man, if one ignored the fact that there was a dangerous animal lurking just below the surface. And Severus did seem to care a great deal about him so perhaps it was worth not snapping at Lupin after all.

“Potter.” Draco replied simply, causing Lupin to give him a look that blatantly said ‘Isn’t it always?’ 

“Do you wish to talk about it?” Draco nearly groaned again at the calm tone of voice. Although, he reasoned, discussing Potter with the one person who knew him best could definitely prove useful. Draco found himself nodding in response. 

“Very well, my quarters are this way.” Lupin turned and Draco followed, frowning as he tried to figure out why they were going to Lupin’s rooms and not his office. The only reason the blond could think of was that the room was nearer. 

Mere moments later, Draco was being ushered into a modestly furnished room. Papers and books were stacked on a desk in the corner, a small wooden coffee table sat in front of a beaten and seemingly well-used brown couch. The room in no way met Malfoy standards but Draco could see why someone might find it ‘homey’ so he kept his face impassive.

“Have a seat, Draco.” Lupin said, closing the door behind him and indicating to the couch. Draco did so, sitting at the side furthest from the glowing fireplace. “Tea?” Lupin asked him. Draco was momentarily taken aback by this unfamiliar gesture of hospitality but nodded.

“Yes please.” He replied, remembering the manners he had been taught by his mother at a young age and had been unable to shake as he got older. He watched as Lupin flooed down to the kitchens requesting tea for two. 

Moments later, a silver tray laden with a china teapot, two matching cups and a plate of chocolate biscuits materialised on the coffee table as Lupin sat down on the couch. He poured the steaming liquid into the two cups before sitting down the pot down and turning to Draco.

“How do you take your tea?” Lupin asked and Draco looked round from where he had been transfixed by the flames in the fireplace.

“Black.” Lupin gave a wry grin at Draco’s response as he spooned sugar into his own cup.

“I should have known.” He said, mostly to himself and Draco frowned but refrained from asking, “Biscuit?” Lupin asked, holding the plate out to Draco. The blond declined, picking up his tea and cradling it in his hands. “So, what happened between you and Harry?” Lupin asked after taking a sip of his drink.

“I went to the room in the Astronomy Tower where he usually sits,” Draco began, staring at the dark liquid in his cup, “I had decided to give being civil one last go, for Severus especially.” Draco missed the look that flashed on Lupin’s face at the comment.

“And how did that go?” Draco sighed, taking a mouthful of tea before replying. 

“Not well. I apologised to him for how I have acted over the years and he threw it back in my face.” Draco looked up to see Lupin studying him careful. Draco had pointedly missed out the finer details but Lupin wasn’t to know that.

“That normally wouldn’t sound like Harry but,” Lupin paused, “after what happened last night he certainly would not find it easy to simply accept your apology.” 

“I had nothing to do with the release of that Boggart.” Draco replied defensively. Lupin eyed him critically and Draco had the fleeting notion that the werewolf was trying to read his mind but the thought vanished quicker than it came.

“I believe you Draco but I’m not sure Harry will.” Lupin said in response before taking a long mouthful of his sweet tea. “It is the sort of thing you would have orchestrated in the past.”

Draco’s lips thinned at the comment, biting his tongue to keep from snapping that he was hardly likely to be doing such things with the whole Inner Circle on his back. Lupin merely gave him a soft smile.

“I’m doing this for the IC, I _have_ to do it for them.” Draco replied resolutely, his teeth clenched slightly.

“Severus will be pleased,” Lupin replied. Draco looked at him, eyes narrowed, “I cannot know for certain but the Inner Circle will have been worried about your lack of cooperation.” Draco scowled down at his cup.

“And now _they_ finally believe that I’m going to cooperate and I actually make the effort, typical Potter makes it twice as hard.” Draco regretted what he’d said instantly as he noticed the stiffening of Lupin’s face. Potter, Severus had told Draco, was like Lupin’s cub therefore Draco had just pissed off a werewolf by mocking his surrogate child. Draco took a large gulp of tea, welcoming the warmth that spread down his oesophagus.

“It finally got through to me that I won’t lose Severus to Potter… or you for that matter, but this hasn’t made anything much easier.” Draco said, noticing the way his hands were beginning to shake. The thought of so many of these things was driving his repressed need for drugs to the surface. One hand gripped his cup as the other rubbed unconsciously at his chest where the pendent would normally sit before scratching at the bridge of his nose.

Draco sat his cup down, trying and failing to ignore the cries of his body as they screamed for a fix of cocaine. He didn’t notice Lupin sitting his own cup down and studying him with a more softened expression.

“It’s as if as soon as one thing in my head sorts itself out, something else takes over. It’s like all I do is seek redemption, finally receiving it before discovering that there is someone else I need to redeem myself with.” Draco snorted sardonically as he ran shaking hands through his hair. 

“I have no idea how to be civil to Potter if he is always going to react like that.” Draco stared pensively into the flames of the fire, subtly watching Lupin out the corner of his eye.

“I’m afraid I cannot think of a solution, Draco,” Lupin sighed, “he has all but stopped letting people near him. You have seen how he is with Ron and Hermione… there is nothing you can do but prove yourself to him.” 

Draco nodded slowly, head spinning slightly. His hands were clenched into tight fists on his lap but even they shook. One line of cocaine wasn’t enough, not nearly enough and he needed more. He needed the release he could only get from the drugs or a blade and he didn’t even have one of them. Faced with the impossible task of showing Potter he could be civil, even when the Gryffindor couldn’t, Draco felt completely beyond redemption. He was screwed and he knew it but all that crossed his mind was- would Severus allow him another hit of coke.

Draco felt warm breath brush across his cheek, jumping at Lupin’s sudden proximity, unaware as to when he had shifted closer and annoyed with himself for not noticing. His eyes widened slightly as he noted the amber hue the werewolf’s eyes had taken on. Lupin wrapped an arm about his shoulder, causing Draco to stiffen as he pressed his lips to the shell of Draco’s ear. 

“I can smell your need,” He whispered, a slight growl to his voice. Draco shuddered both from his need and the werewolf’s proximity. Despite himself he let his body further into the embrace. Lupin was shorter than both Severus and his father, but with a slightly more muscular frame. His sent was rich and sweet, unlike the musk of Severus’ robes. It was different but not entirely unwelcome. 

“Relax,” Lupin whispered, his hold tightening. Draco let his eyes drift closed, breathing coming in long shaky breaths. The werewolf held him until the first round of shivers had wracked their way through his body, his hold only tightening when Draco felt the urges to flee in search of the white powder. Draco couldn’t help wishing it were Severus, or his father here with him instead.

Draco felt Lupin’s back stiffen before he heard the room door click open. The blond felt the back of his neck prickling as he opened his eyes, pulling away a little in order to get a better look at the doorway. If he’d had either the strength or inclination he may have rolled his eyes, groaning at the irony of it all. For sure enough, there stood Potter, green eyes wide and lips parted slightly in shock.

\- - -

**To Be Continued…?**   
_A/N: Like so many chapters, I want this one to die …painfully and preferably on fire. Thanks for all the reviews for the last chapter sweethearts. We will have our side-fics up on either Wednesday night (or Thursday morning), or so we hope at least! Wasn’t this a dramatic, evil cliffhanger? Yes? It was? Really? Oh that’s good then …see you all for Chapter 33 in a week! …I’m terrible aren’t I?_  
Take care sweethearts,  
Aurora Enkeli Medeis. 

\- - -

**EDT: Sisters of Darkness would like to apologise as we were unable to meet our own deadline for the sidefics. As a result they will not be posted until after we return from Download. Many apologies.**


	33. Chapter XXXIII

  
Author's notes: "You're beyond now- redemption, and no one's going to catch you when you fall." Harry’s back at Hogwarts. His allegiances are wavering. It’s only a matter of time… [Slash, self-harm, eating disorders, drug use…]  


* * *

** Beyond Redemption **   
_By Sisters of Darkness_

\- - -

For this Chapter:

**Rating(s)** : NC-17-Rated.  
 **Pairing(s)** : Mentions of Remus Lupin/ Severus Snape; Mentions of Harry Potter/ Sirius Black.  
 **Warning(s)** : Self-Harm (Cutting). 

\- - -

**Chapter XXXIII**   
_By CS WhiteWolf_

**H** arry was practically growling in anger as he stormed from the Astronomy tower. He heard Malfoy’s frustrated shout and clenched his teeth together, hands fisting in an effort to control himself and stop from storming back and punching Malfoy right across his pointy face. 

Six years, six years worth of hatred and enmity, and what? He was just supposed to forgive Malfoy? Harry knew that the only reason why Malfoy was apologising was because he was afraid of being kicked out of Voldemort’s little group. Harry had no sympathy for the boy. Malfoy was an idiot if he thought that an apology would help his case any. 

Oh, he would no doubt be praised for making the effort, for taking a step to cementing civility between them. But his efforts were in vein. They were insincere and meaningless, Harry knew, because should he decide in the end not to join the IC, then Malfoy would revert immediately back to the spoiled and pompous prat he’d always been with nary a twinge of guilt or remorse. 

Not that Harry would be feeling the loss either if it came to it that he chose the Order over the Inner Circle. His pace slowed, his anger and resentment suddenly draining from his body, a heavy weight settling down upon him as he realised the importance of Malfoy’s attempt. No matter how insincere, he was at least making an effort. 

Harry slumped slightly. The Slytherin must really care about those in the IC if he were willing to make amends- no matter how false- with Harry Potter of all people, in order to stay with them. Were they really as close knit as all that? Was their relationship more than something sexual? More than the establishment of power and control? Harry had trouble seeing people like Voldemort and Lucius Malfoy as anything other than murdering sadists. 

_And yet you’re willing to join them._

Harry scowled at the thought. He wasn’t willing to join anyone! Not yet. But the thought niggled at the back of his mind and he wondered why it was he’d seek to join the creature that had made his life a misery over the man who sought to control his life yet pretended not to. 

Harry sighed heavily, rubbing tiredly at his eyes as he made his way down the hallways and corridors of Hogwarts with no particular destination in mind. Absentmindedly he checked his watch, noting that only time for dinner. It felt later to him. The darkening sky outside the many windows he passed by gave him a sense of melancholy as he noted the days becoming shorter and shorter. Christmas was almost upon them. 

Harry’s breath hitched at the thought. Christmas. It would be his first Christmas without Sirius since… 

“Oh Harry, there you are!” Harry winced at the voice, his trail of thought breaking as he slowly turned, watching as Ron and Hermione hurried over to him. He realised he was walking along the corridor of the fourth floor- the floor that held the Library. Of all the places to end up when trying to avoid his friends. It was almost always a sure bet that Hermione at least could be found around here. 

“Where on earth have you been all day?” Hermione began, “We’ve been looking all over for you since you disappeared at breakfast!” Hermione had her hands on her hips, one of those ‘you had better have a good excuse’ expressions on her face. 

Harry forced a small smile, not quite meeting her perceptive brown eyes as he answered. “I’ve been with Professor Lupin all day, Hermione,” He lied, the expected twinge of guilt he usually felt when lying to his friends noticeably absent. 

“Oh,” Hermione gave him a simpering look, both her and Ron’s expressions softening at his words. “Are you alright?” 

Harry gave a slight shrug, putting on his ‘brave’ face for them, “I’m okay. Better than last night,”

Ron scowled, “No thanks to Malfoy! I hope he got detention for what he did to you, the slimy bastard.” 

“Ron!” Hermione gasped, her gaze disapproving. 

Ron’s scowl deepened. “Well he is! I bet Malfoy knew exactly what Harry’s Boggart would turn into,” the red-head turned to face Harry, “He knows exactly what kind of effect they have on you, I expect he thought it’d be funny to see you faint in the Great Hall.” 

Harry flushed a little. It would be just like Malfoy to have arraigned something like this, but even with their personal vendettas against each other, Harry didn’t entirely believe the Boggart was Malfoy’s fault. Not so soon after whatever it was Voldemort had been so angry about. The blond Slytherin wouldn’t have dared. And if he had, he would have been gloating, not attempting to apologise for everything he had ever done to Harry.

Still it was best to agree with Ron on this one. Not because he wanted to defend Malfoy or because he was still slightly angered by the blonde’s attempt at an apology, but because if he didn’t, then not only Ron but Hermione as well would start on him, pestering him as to what was wrong. 

“Ron’s right, Hermione, the whole thing reeks of Slytherin. And we all know who the Slytherins follow.” 

Ron gave Hermione a smug smile; the bushy-haired girl gave an indignant sigh but said nothing more on the matter. She turned back to Harry, shifting her bag on her shoulder- Harry could see the much-abused satchel was once again close to overflowing with texts and parchment. 

“Are you coming to dinner, Harry? Ron and I were just heading there.” Though phrased as a question, Harry knew it was more of a demand. He hadn’t eaten since his meagre breakfast of toast and some scrambled egg, which he had mutilated more than eaten. He’d skipped lunch in favour of solitude and though he felt himself slightly hungry the very prospect of going to the hall and sitting at Gryffindor table, surrounded by all his housemates and ‘friends’ was enough to make his stomach lurch unpleasantly and his hunger abate for the time being. 

“I’m having dinner with Remus,” Harry replied, thinking quickly. 

Hermione looked at him disbelievingly. “You’ve been with him all day, Harry. Why aren’t you there now if you’re eating with him?”

Harry resisted the urge to glare at the girl. He felt Ron’s inquiring look to Hermione’s question. Biting back a sigh he gestured down the corridor and towards the library doors. 

“I wanted to get a Defence book Professor Lupin mentioned, he wanted to show me something in it but hadn’t had the time to get it out the library.”

Hermione looked dearly like she wanted to call his bluff, but his excuse was valid enough that she couldn’t, not unless she was willing to take it up with Remus herself. Eventually she nodded her head. 

“Okay then. Will we see you tonight?”

Harry shook his head, “Occlumency,” He muttered under his breath. Ron gave a groan and clapped him on the back sympathetically. 

“Malfoy last night, Snape tonight, you’ve really got it bad this year, Harry,” 

Harry grimaced a little, “Don’t I know it.” They hovered around each other uncertainly for a moment before Harry broke the silence. 

“Right well, I’d better get going. Lupin is expecting me soon.” He shoved his hands into his pockets to stop from fidgeting.

Hermione nodded, stepping aside to let Harry get past her. 

“Right well, bye?” 

Hermione gave him a small smile, nodding her head as a farewell. 

“See you tonight, mate,” Ron said as he took Hermione’s arm and led her down the corridor and towards the stairs. Harry turned and made as if to go to the library, checking over his shoulder to make sure they weren’t watching him before detouring round to another set of stairs and making his way down to the second floor, figuring that he may as well go and visit Remus, knowing the man never ate his evening weekend meal in the Great Hall. Harry just hoped that was because he valued the privacy of a lone meal, not because he was entertaining Snape or anything of the likes. 

The sudden image of Remus and Snape dining together over a candlelit dinner was enough to make him snort aloud at the absurdity of it all. Remus might be a more romantic type, but Harry couldn’t really picture the Potions Master as being anything like that. Still, it was an amusing thought. 

Harry finally reached the second floor, turning off the stairway he made his way down the hallway in the direction of Remus’ rooms. He lingered a moment just outside the door to Remus’ rooms, his hand raised as if to knock upon the hardwood door, hesitating as to whether he should knock or not. It was polite he knew, but every time he did these days Remus chided him friendlily for it, imploring upon him that Harry was always welcomed into his rooms and that there would be no repeat episodes of the night he’d walked in on him and Severus together. 

Taking a deep breath and lowering his hand to the door handle, Harry twisted the knob slowly before pushing the door open and stepping over the threshold. He stopped short. Stopped at the sight that was Remus holding someone against him. Someone with an unmistakable shock of white-blond hair.

Harry could only stare in shock at the sight before him, eyes widening as he watched Draco Malfoy pull away only slightly from Remus- from his Remus’ embrace, and look up at him, grey eyes seeming to mock him. Harry flexed his fingers, loosening his suddenly murderous grip on the doorknob as the werewolf continued holding Malfoy, making no move to look up and face him. 

His heart pounded viciously against his ribcage, so violently so that he felt it would pierce right through his torso. He even wished it would as a pang of hurt shot through his chest. First Snape. Now Malfoy. Was there anyone Harry had yet to lose a part of the only person he felt life was worth living for to? Maybe it was Remus who should join the Inner Circle; he obviously got along just swimmingly with its members. 

Remus lifted his head slowly, turning from his hold on Malfoy to look at him, golden-amber eyes flashing onto his own betrayed greens. The very air around them felt oppressive and weighty as Remus extracted himself fully from Malfoy, who leaned back in his seat, looking upon both Harry and Remus with half-lidded eyes, his pasty face paler than Harry had ever seen it. 

“Excuse me, Professor,” Harry finally spoke, voice so soft that even with his enhanced hearing Remus had trouble hearing it. It was like the incident with Severus- when Harry had walked in on them- only with less shouting and wand pointing. Remus tensed at just how… _composed_ , Harry appeared to be holding himself as. 

“I really should start knocking.” He continued and Remus winced, slowly climbing to his feet, he took barely a step around the couch before stopping as Harry backed up and away, hovering now just outside the doorway. 

“Harry…” Remus’ face was pleading as he held his arms open, imploring Harry not to… to what? Run from him? From this scene he had been forced to witness? After his chat with Draco there was simply no way Harry would hang about to wait for an explanation as to what exactly the blond boy was doing in Remus’ arms.

Harry shook his head. “I’m sorry.” 

“Harry… cub,” Harry’s face tightened at Remus’ term of endearment. 

“I have to go,” He took another step backwards, “I…” 

“Oh for gods sake, Potter!” Draco bit out, getting shakily to his feet. “We weren’t doing anything,” He stopped as Harry’s eyes flashed to him, hatred and fury emitting from their expressive depths. Draco found himself glaring back, arms folded, daring the Gryffindor to insinuate that anything was going on with him and the werewolf. 

“I have my lesson. With Snape. After dinner. I should go now…” Harry felt only the briefest, fleetest feeling of satisfaction at the way Draco tensed at the Potions Master’s name before it was quickly replaced with a sickly, burning sensation that rolled around his stomach, creeping up his chest and throat in the form of bitter bile. 

He didn’t bother with closing the door behind him as he left Remus’ chambers, half-expecting, half-wishing that the man would come after him. To tell him what an idiot he was for thinking that anything would happen between him and Malfoy. But Remus didn’t. And Harry wasn’t so sure that there wasn’t in fact something going on between them. 

Tears of anger and pain burnt at his eyes, his throat constricting as he held back the urge to cry. With a rough swipe he brushed at his eyes with the coarse sleeve of his robes, hating himself for showing such weakness. It felt that all he ever did these days was cry. Cry over Sirius. Over Remus. Over losing the friendship he once had with his friends and knowing he couldn’t- maybe even wouldn’t- salvage it. Over his indecisions as to what to do with his life. Over wanting to kill himself. Over feeling guilty for thinking that way. Over everything ever gone wrong in his life, transferring his blame only to feel the hollow satisfaction pinning his blame elsewhere could give him. Over feeling betrayed by everyone, by the world. 

The image of Remus holding Malfoy, holding the Slytherin like he held him flashed before his mind’s eye. Remus who held him so tightly, so protectively. Remus who betrayed him by being anywhere near Malfoy when he knew. Knew exactly how Harry felt about the other boy. How they both felt about each other. 

He reached into his robes, feeling around for the pocket sewn inside, just behind the Gryffindor emblem on his chest, reaching out with straining fingers until he felt the coolness of metal brush against his fingertips. He grabbed at the object, the razorblade, drawing it out and hugging it to his chest. The sharpened ends digging into his clenched hand without drawing blood. 

It was foolish to carry such a thing on him, he knew, but today had just been one of those days. After the Halloween Party the night before and waking up to Ron and Hermione hovering over him this morning when he’d awoken in his room in Gryffindor Tower as opposed to the couch in Remus’ rooms- he’s just known that he’d never survive the day without the blade. 

He’d tried to tell himself countless times that he wasn’t addicted to the blade. That he was in control of the cuts he made. But in truth he knew he wasn’t. Knew he was a long way away from being in control, yet he couldn’t bear to get help, to tell someone- anyone, that he though he needed help. 

Every time he made a new cut and felt the release, he told himself it was he who was making the cuts, controlling them, the urges. But every time he felt the urge, he cut, couldn’t prevent himself from slicing across his flesh- pasty and pale with purplish scars and blackened bruises littering both his arms. Couldn’t stop from punching his own arm when a blade was not near. Couldn’t stop from digging his nails into his skin, squeezing, pinching, scratching, scraping. 

Harry knew that by starting to carry his razorblade with him, on occasion, that he was only getting worse. Last night’s almost unaware bout of self-harm in the boy’s toilets had only gone to show it. Gone to show how lost he was, how far gone with need. Did anyone see? He wondered. Oh, they had seen, both Snape and Remus had _seen_ , but did they _see_? 

He tried to push Remus from his mind, only to end up thinking on someone else who churned up such extreme emotions within him. Sirius. 

Sirius who had _seen_ as well. Sirius who had always seen. Ever since the beginning. But he never saw. Not like Harry needed him to. It had been something Sirius hadn’t understood, but never rebuked. He had been fascinated with the self-harm, but hadn’t pressed Harry for a reasoning behind it. Hadn’t asked him why he liked to be hurt, why he liked to hurt himself. But that didn’t matter. Sirius had kept him grounded. Kept him focussed. Kept the need at bay. But Sirius was gone now. And there was no one left to help him.

Harry found himself back up in the Astronomy Tower, unable to recall making his way up from Remus’ rooms. He shivered at how distracted he had become of late. How hurting himself and hiding the results were oft all he could think about these days. 

He manoeuvred himself up onto his usual windowsill perch, the razorblade still clutched firmly in his hand as he pulled his legs up, hugging them to his chest as he stared forlornly out the window. The sky was a dark, overcast grey, promising either rain or snow or a mix in between. Either way, he didn’t particularly care. He fingered his left ankle for a moment, feeling the slight indentation of the skin there before tugging the sock down. In the dim and fading light shining in through the window, Harry could just make out the anklet-type band that encircled his leg inches above the anklebone. 

It had been one of his more recent explorations. The need for fresher skin and the chance to let his much-abused arms heal some had compelled him to search out new areas on his body in which to massacre. The band about his ankle had been the first cut he’d made on another part of his body. He fingered the still puckered flesh before scratching at the flaking skin with the edge of his razorblade. 

He was barely aware of moving the razor to his ankle and dragging a long, thin line through the skin. Didn’t feel so much as a sting as the flesh parted beneath the blade. He moved the blade back to his ankle, drawing another line. Watching in morbid fascination as the blood pooled from one cut, running down into the other before flooding out and over, running down to soak into his sock. 

Harry drew a third line, feeling a slight twinge as he pushed the blade in deeper, cutting further. He lifted the razorblade to his mouth, tongue flicking out over the sharpened edge, lapping at the blood lightly coating the silvery object. He sighed, closing his eyes momentarily before pocketing the blade once more. He looked at the seeping cuts he’d made, watching as the blood tricked down his ankle. Harry curled his index finger, running it up the abused skin- collecting blood in the curve before bringing his finger to his lips and tasting the fruits of his labour. 

Harry sighed again, dropping his head back against the wall. The coppery tang of his blood staining his tongue in a way not altogether unpleasant. He felt his ankle begin to throb but there was no pain, only the slightest feeling of discomfort as he flexed his foot, the sliced skin stretching a little at the movement. 

 

He wasn’t sure how long he sat there, staring at the stone wall before him, seeing nothing but the thoughts that fluttered through his head, images of Remus and Draco and Dementors and Cuts. All of it a blur of confusion and hurt and despair and longing. 

When eventually he looked up from his musings, the sky was darker, more overcast, though Harry reckoned that he couldn’t have been up here more than an hour at the latest. The state of his recent cuts only proved his assumptions when he checked on them. Though the blood had long stopped flowing, the thick rivulets that had run down into his sock hadn’t had time to solidify and cake over completely, the thin layer of ‘skin’ giving way beneath his probing finger. 

With practiced ease, Harry removed his wand and muttered a cleaning spell over the bloodied area, frowning only slightly when the white of his sock remained slightly stained. He tugged the sock up regardless and swung his legs over the windowsill, sliding back down into the Astronomy Tower before setting out on the long trek down to the dungeons and his Occlumency lesson with Snape, reasoning that even were he late to arrive there wasn’t exactly much Snape could do about it that would get a reaction from him. 

Short of sending him to Dumbledore that was, and even then Harry knew there was no way the man would risk sending Harry to the headmaster without him having learned at least the most basic mechanics of Occlumency- namely that of keeping others out of his mind. 

Harry frowned at the thought. He knew Snape wasn’t teaching him properly, but considering the amount of information he now knew, should he ever be called up to the headmaster’s office, Harry had no doubt that the IC and their plans to recruit Harry would be discovered. He wondered if he should bring this point up with the Potions Master when he arrived for his lesson. Keeping Harry ignorant in the defence of his mind could only be as bad for the IC as it would be for the Order. 

Perhaps he could get Remus to back him up on this one if Snape refused? Harry’s stomach gave an unpleasant lurch as he thought of the werewolf. He scowled inwardly at himself. He was probably being irrational, jumping to conclusions, as he was prone to. But still, the though of there being anything between Remus and Malfoy was… well it _hurt_. Harry’s brow furrowed, to think of Remus and Malfoy together, in a way… in the way Remus kept backing away from when they were together… it was like a blow, physical and mental both. To be rejected like that. 

Running a hand through his unruly hair, Harry tried to push all thoughts of Remus and Malfoy both from his mind, trying to think on other, less-emotive thoughts as he approached nearer the Potion’s Classroom. He did not wish for Snape to see such personal fears of his. It was bad enough he’d fainted into the man’s arms only last night. 

A light flush started up his neck at the memory. He just hoped that Snape would have the decency _not_ to bring it up. He stopped outside the door to the Potion’s classroom, seeing the faint beam of light emitting from beneath the door, indicating that Snape was most probably inside his classroom as opposed to his office. 

Raising his hand and hesitating only briefly, Harry tried to push all thoughts from his mind as he rapped upon the hard wood. 

“Enter.” Snape’s voice called from inside, his tone snappish and brooking no room for delay. Dare anyone play chap-door-runaway with the Potions Master, for unlike Flitwick, Harry doubted a cheerful rebuke would be all they got in retaliation. 

Harry turned the handle and stepped into the room, eyes flickering over to the desk Snape was seated at, the man was bent over a pile of parchments, his quill ruthlessly scrawling vicious responses to some poor student’s attempt at a Potions essay. 

The man finished whatever sarcastic retort he was writing before looking up to see Harry standing in the still opened doorway. 

“Potter, you’re-,” Snape’s gaze flickered up to the back wall and the clock situated upon it, his eyes narrowing slightly as he turned back to face the Gryffindor, “You’re early.” He said. 

Harry blinked, his eyes flashing up to the clock as well, flushing as he realised he’d turned up a whole half-hour early for his Occlumency lesson. He shifted uncomfortably under Snape’s intense stare. 

“Is there any particular reason why you’ve decided to grace me with your presence a half hour earlier than usual, Mr. Potter?”

Harry gave a slight shrug, unable- and not entirely wanting- to meet the man’s eyes lest he try to Legilimise him, “I guess I just wasn’t watching the time.” 

Snape frowned, waving a hand in invitation for Harry to enter and seat himself. 

Closing the door behind him, Harry moved further into the room, perching himself upon the edge of his seat, still refusing to look up and meet Snape’s dark and suspicious gaze. 

“Now,” The older man began, his voice soft and devoid of all negative tone he usually implored when speaking with Harry. “ _Is_ there a particular reason why you’re early, Harry?” 

Harry did look up at the use of his first name, still unused to hearing it spoken by Snape. “There’s no particular reason, Professor,” He held Snape’s gaze a moment too long he realised as he barely felt- or rather sensed- the faint touch at his consciousness as the man gently propped at his thought. He dropped his eyes again. 

“Don’t do that,” 

“Do what?” 

“Use Legilimency on me,” 

“You felt it?” Harry looked up again, watching as Snape leaned back in his seat, dark eyes shining slightly, though with pleasure or displeasure Harry could not tell. He nodded his head in response to the man’s question, watching as he pursed his thin lips, long fingers tracing his mouth as he though on the boy’s answer.

“You’re Occlumency shields are getting stronger.” Harry started at the statement. 

“How is that possible? You aren’t even teaching me.” 

Snape raised an eyebrow at his comment. “Oh but I am teaching you, Harry,” He said softly. 

Harry shook his head, “Not in anyway that’s seeing results fast.” 

“Indeed?” Severus leaned forward, watching him carefully. 

“Dumbledore no doubt thinks it’s because we don’t trust each other. And we don’t. But we both know it’s because you don’t want me to be able to close off my mind to Voldemort should I not join with you.” Harry frowned at his own words, “In fact, I’d go so far as to suggest last year’s lessons were an attempt to make my mind more susceptible to Voldemort.” 

“Do explain further, Mr Potter,” Severus clasped his hands upon the desk. 

Harry shivered slightly at the underlying tone to Snape’s words. Though he wasn’t directly meeting the man’s eyes, he hadn’t entirely looked away, offering only a shrug in response, not really wanting to know if his words had any truth to them. Not yet at least. 

“I think you should teach me Occlumency. Properly.” He met Snape’s eyes, correctly reading the question lying there. “I haven’t denounced my allegiance to the Light, nor have I aligned myself to the Dark. At this stage, Professor, I am a liability to both sides, but mostly to Voldemort’s. Should Dumbledore decide to invade my mind he will discover everything I know about the IC, it’s members and the want to recruit me. Even were I to feel him breaching my privacy in such a way, I have no means of stopping him, or even of hiding the information that would damn us all.”

“The same could be said for the Dark Lord,” 

Harry scowled slightly, “I know that. But wouldn’t you rather have your precious IC protected than Voldemort trying to enter my mind again? I have no information that Voldemort could use against the Order.” 

He dropped his gaze again as thoughts of the prophecy flittered across his mind. He didn’t quite want Snape- or the IC- knowing that he knew it in its entirety. 

“Very well then, Harry.” Snape said slowly, “I will teach you the basics in a way even you should be able to grasp.” Though not said as an insult, Harry still bristled at the comment. “But first you need help.” 

Harry looked at him in confusion. Severus scowled. 

“Your mind is too fragile at the moment to work with, Potter. Should either side try to Legilimise you, using their full power- not just the meagre amount I’ve used on you- your mind would be torn apart, and you left as nothing better than one who’s received a Dementor’s kiss.” 

“I’m not fragile,” Harry said, frowning at Snape’s words. 

Severus glared at him. “Yes, you are, Potter. After your display last night-,” Harry winced, “-there is no doubt in my mind that you are in need of help. Emotionally so at the very least.” 

“Oh, and I suppose you’ll take it upon yourself to be the one to do the helping?” Harry folded his arms, not entirely satisfied with the way things were going. 

“Someone needs to,” Snape replied. 

“I have Remus to help me,” Harry retorted. “I don’t need you.” 

“And we don’t yet need you, Mr Potter, but if you plan on joining with the Inner Circle, and protecting your own mind from others, then we ask that you at least be in a sane frame of mind,” 

Harry gaped at him a moment, his cheeks burning at the Potions Master’s words. 

“Yah, because Voldemort is the sanest man around,” he muttered under his breath. 

“You would do well not to insult him should you expect to join with him,” Snape snapped. 

Harry’s eyes narrowed accusingly. “You’ve been speaking to Remus?”

“He may have mentioned it,” Severus admitted, obviously seeing no need to deny it. 

Harry huffed, “Then you should know that as I was under the influence of a potion at the time I said it-,” 

“That potion was the only thing keeping you in the right frame of mind last night, Mr Potter.” Interrupted Snape, “I assure you it gave only clarity for the time it took until your body was forced to shut down and recover.” 

Harry looked mildly surprised at Severus’ comment, eliciting only a smirk from the Potions Master. 

“Anything you may have said last night, was exactly and honestly how you felt at the time you said it.”

Harry wasn’t sure how to respond to Snape’s comment, so he chose not to. Choosing instead to focus his attention on a far wall and ignore the sudden itch to his ankle. 

Snape shifted, standing from his seat, “Come with me, Harry,” He moved over to the door that lead into his office. “I believe there are certain other matters that must also be addressed this night,” 

“Like what?” He asked, still feeling slightly put out by the man’s revelation on his mental state and the potion he’d been given. 

Severus merely gestured his hand to the door, holding it open for Harry. The Gryffindor stood from his seat and walked over, watching Snape carefully as he entered into the man’s office, only turning to look inside once he was sure the man meant him no ill will. Though walking blindly into a room owned by said man wasn’t exactly the smartest of moves either, he supposed as he caught sight of the grey-flecked, tawny-brown hair of Remus Lupin. 

The werewolf looked up from the text he was reading, his eyes watching Harry carefully, noting how the boy tensed before spinning on his heel, intending to leave the room- only to collide with Severus’ chest as the man stepped into the room, blocking his exit. 

Harry stumbled back, turning again when he heard Remus’ chair scraping across the floor as he pushed it backwards, standing and making his way over towards him.

“Do you want me to leave?” Severus asked. Both Harry and Remus answered him at the same time, though their answers differed. 

Remus turned his amber-eyed gaze to Harry who looked away with a frown, feeling an irrational heat building behind his eyes. 

“Please do leave us, Severus,” Remus asked. Harry refused to look up, even when he heard the Potions Master retreat and the door behind them close with a click. 

“Harry?” Remus moved closer, stopping just inches from him, reaching out to touch at the boy’s shoulder. Harry tensed further, still resolutely looking away. 

“Harry?” Remus crouched a little, putting Harry above him in height, “Cub?” 

Harry turned slowly to look at Remus, his eyes shining with the tears he willed himself not to shed. 

“Moony…?” Remus held open his arms, catching the boy as he launched himself into the werewolf’s embrace. Remus held him tightly, stroking Harry’s back as the boy clung to him. 

“Not like that, cub. Never like that,” Harry merely nodded into the werewolf’s neck, knowing that Remus was speaking about the scene he’d witnessed earlier, with Malfoy, but unable to form the words he wanted to speak to Remus. The words he needed to apologise for his behaviour earlier, to question him on Malfoy’s presence in his rooms, to tell him that he did in fact think he needed help, to tell him about the cuts on his ankle. 

He said nothing though, as the pressure behind his eyes slowly abated, and Remus continued to hold him- close and tight- as if he was the only and most important thing in the werewolf’s life.

\- - -

**To Be Continued…?**  
 _A/N: Well, this took longer to write than usual, I must admit, but it’s a long one folks, longer than any chapter of BR so far- here’s hoping it makes up for a) the ending of last chapter (evil Aurora!) b) the fact that we haven’t updated for just over a week (we’re still using Download as an excuse for that, despite the fact we were back on Monday ::cough::) and c) that we_ still _haven’t finished those side-stories we’d promised. Dang us. But it’s been an odd week._  
Here’s to hoping this chapter will make up for all that! Next update will be (fingers crossed) within our unofficial three-day period between updates. And we’ll try and get those side-fics out to ya’ll soon!   
Thanks for reading all, and please do review- we can’t tell you how psyched both Aurora and myself are that we are so close to 200reviews- I mean seriously! 200 reviews!? That’s like so crazy. ::hugs you all::  
Peace,   
CS WhiteWolf

\- - -


	34. Chapter XXXIV

  
Author's notes: "You're beyond now- redemption, and no one's going to catch you when you fall." Harry’s back at Hogwarts. His allegiances are wavering. It’s only a matter of time… [Slash, self-harm, eating disorders, drug use…]  


* * *

** Beyond Redemption **   
_By Sisters of Darkness_

\- - -

For this Chapter:

**Rating(s)** : R-Rated.  
 **Pairing(s)** : None.  
 **Warning(s)** : Adult Language.  
\- - -

**Chapter XXXIV**   
_By Aurora Enkeli Medeis_

**D** raco sighed heavily where he sat at a table in the library, he’d been staring at the same layout of runes for twenty minutes and hadn’t been able to make any sense of them. Unconsciously, he scraped the inkless tip of his quill along the back of his hand, scraping lightly at the skin in an almost ticklish albeit stinging fashion. 

His mind was wandering to the Astronomy Tower where his body would soon be as well but after the events of the previous night he was not looking forward to it. The Slytherin in him was telling him not to bother, he would probably only get punched in the face. But, Draco sighed again, it was for the IC. The blond snorted quietly, he’d thought the words ‘for the IC’ so many times they were beginning to lose all meaning. 

Another few minutes passed by until Draco realised he had subconsciously been tracing the letters I and C on the back of his hand. He shook his head and put his quill down, dropping his head into cupped palms. This thing with Potter was really going to end up with him in a permanent room in St. Mungo’s. 

He could feel a set of eyes on him from across the room. There was no need to look up- there was only one other person who’d be in the library at this hour. Granger. Draco ran his hand through his hair, sitting up as he put his quill, ink, parchment and books back into his bag. He glanced at Granger as he got up from the desk only to find her frowning at her own desk. Draco scowled; he could only imagine what theories were running through her bushy Mudblood head.

Swinging his bag over his shoulder, Draco left the library and headed left up towards the tower as opposed to back down to the dungeons. The route from the library to the Astronomy Tower was an odd one. From most places in the castle it was a simple case of go up staircase after staircase while heading north but apparently the library was in an odd position. Draco headed along the corridor and climbed two flights of stairs before doubling back on himself, taking another staircase then walking in the right direction again.

As tiresome as this path was it meant he passed right over the top of the Gryffindor territory, which was good news as Draco was sure the Weasel was patrolling that area. It was bad enough that he’d been near Granger and was now about to interact with Potter, he felt no inclination to deal with every trio member in one evening. 

He walked slowly along the dark corridor, eyes transfixed on the door at the end. With a hand on the door handle Draco paused, realising how ironic it was that a Slytherin and Malfoy was doing something that they would rather not do for the people they loved. Yes, St Mungo’s here he comes. 

Draco pushed open the door, a loud sustained creak echoing down the corridor. As per usual, Potter was sitting on one of the windowsills, a half smoked cigarette between his fingers, an open notebook and quill on the desk beside him. Draco closed the door behind him, setting his heavy bag down on a dust-covered desk, nose wrinkling in distaste at the thought of the state his bag would end up in. 

For the first time in all of Draco’s visits to the tower Potter looked round at him, eyes narrowed challengingly as if daring him to speak. Instead of making the sarcastic quip that was on the tip of his tongue, Draco walked across the room and hoisted himself up onto the windowsill just along from where Potter sat.

Draco closed his eyes, letting his head fall back against the wall of the alcove before groping blindly for the handle of the window. When his fingertips gripped it, he pulled it downwards to unlock the window, only to find the brittle metal breaking off in his hand. He opened his eyes, pulling his hand away and scowling down at the handle before tossing it across the room, opting instead to force open the glass pane with his hand.

“Malfoy,” Potter asked without looking around the wall that separated them, “what are you doing here _again_?” He asked, taking a long drag of his cigarette and flicking some ash out the window, “Aside from breaking the windows I mean.” He added as an afterthought. Draco rolled his eyes, head falling back against the stone once more.

“It would appear that I am sitting on a window ledge although I might be mistaken.” Draco replied sarcastically, hands clenching into fists at his side. 

“Very funny, Malfoy,” Potter retorted, his tone equally as sarcastic, “if you’ve come with another half-assed apology then you can save it.” He flicked the butt of his cigarette out the window, reaching inside his robes as Draco watched the butt’s decent to the ground out the open window.

“I’m not apologising to you again.” Draco snapped, frowning at the fact he was losing his calm so easily. He took a deep breath before the two of them lapsed into an oppressive silence. Draco heard the rustle of paper and a click of metal before the alcove Potter was sitting in lit up with a flickering orange glow. A puff of smoke drifted into the room before the Gryffindor dropped the cigarettes and lighter onto his notebook and transferred the cigarette to his left hand.

Potter took a drag, hanging the cigarette out the window as he exhaled. A chilling November breeze caught the smoke emanating from the cigarette’s tip and blew them in the direction of the window Draco was staring out of. The acrid, unpleasantly hot smell of the smoke filled Draco’s nostrils and he screwed up his face, pulling himself away from the window.

“Merlin Potter, how can you smoke those foul things?” Draco asked; his face still wrinkled in displeasure.

“It’s very simple really, Malfoy, I wrap my lips around the end and suck. I’d thought _you_ of all people would know that concept well enough.” Potter responded, taking another drag. The corner of Draco’s mouth quirked but he suppressed it.

“My word, did you _actually_ make an attempt at wit?” Draco asked with a smirk. Potter blew smoke out into the room, deliberately angling it towards Draco.

“Don’t get too excited about it, Malfoy.” Potter said slowly, leaning out the alcove slightly to half look round at Draco, “You might fall out the window.” Draco snorted as Potter turned back round again.

“Yes because that would bother you so very much I can imagine.” Draco drawled as Potter took a drag of tobacco and exhaled out the window.

“Not in the slightest, it might actually amuse me.” Potter replied honestly and Draco snorted again.

“I’m sure it would, as you falling out would amuse me. But me, unlike you, would be blamed for it.” Draco said, a slight bitterness to his words. Potter flicked ash out the window and Draco watched it disappear in the wind.

“That’s the benefit of being the ‘Boy-who-lived’,” Potter said flatly, “You get away with murder.” There was such a sudden coldness in Potter’s voice that Draco wondered if the other boy might be schizophrenic. Draco didn’t want Potter having some sort of psychotic episode while he was around so quickly tried to bring back the atmosphere of their earlier, almost civil banter.

“It would be your own fault if you fell out the window.” Draco stated, folding his arms over his chest as one leg draped off the ledge.

“So many deaths are.” Potter replied quietly as he exhaled. Draco grit his teeth together. He did not have the patience nor temperament to deal with self-deprecating Gryffindor bullshit and when Potter spoke like that Draco was quite willing to shove him off the window ledge and take pride in being dealt the blame. Instead he tried his Slytherin best to keep his cool.

“I meant because you’re sitting there close to the edge, filling your lungs with vile, disgusting chemicals.” Draco said, his tone more snappish than he intended.

“Don’t knock it ‘til you’ve tried it, Malfoy.” Potter said as he took a drag, flicking ash out the window as he exhaled.

“I will not fill my body with such filth.” Draco replied haughtily.

“Oh of course, I forgot. You wouldn’t want to clog up that pureblood body with horrible muggle things.” The comment hit a lot closer to home than Potter would have known and Draco’s mind was suddenly whirling to thoughts of his cocaine. He scowled- he’d only just stopped thinking about it.

“Besides,” Potter continued, “you’re probably too much of a wimp to try it.” Draco sat up in the alcove. From the angle he was sitting at he couldn’t see the smallest of smirks that was quirking up the corner of Potter’s mouth. 

“Fine.” Draco snapped as he hopped off the ledge and stepped up to Potter, “Give it here.” Draco snatched the cigarette from between Potter’s fingers before the brunette could reply. Draco took it between his lips, already feeling ill from being so near it but he wasn’t about to back down. He inhaled slightly before the nicotine caught the back of his throat and he coughed violently.

“Fuck,” he spluttered, thrusting the cigarette back at Potter, “that’s…” he coughed again, “that’s bloody disgusting.” 

Potter swung his legs into the room, taking a long drag to mock Draco, blowing it directly back out at the blond. Draco looked up with a glare to find a hint of an almost invisible smile on Potter’s mouth. 

“I did try to tell you that you’re too much of a wimp.” Potter said matter-of-factly, only causing Draco to glare harder. Draco tried to say something but his throat caught and he choked again. The corners of Potter’s lips twitched again, a genuine near-smile gracing his features.

“I’m glad you’re enjoying this you sadistic wanker.” Draco spat. Potter rolled his eyes and flicked his now defunct cigarette out the window behind him.

“Says you.” He said, reaching past Draco to pick up his notebook and quill before jumping back onto the windowsill. 

“I’ll have you know,” Draco said as he straightened up rubbing his throat, “that I can be surprisingly masochistic.” Draco stopped dead from where he was pulling his wand out his robes when he realised how highly suggestive his comment was. He stopped himself from screwing his face up- Potter in a sexual situation was not a thought he wanted to entertain. 

Draco extracted his wand and cast a charm on his mouth to take away the putrid taste and cast another to take the smell out of his hair and robes. When his wand was back in his robes he looked up to find Potter still looking at him with mild curiosity. Draco felt that there had been decidedly enough civility for one evening and construed the pretence of checking his watch, discovering much to his delight that he did actually have to leave.

“I shall leave you to your disgusting habits, Potter, those Hufflepuffs won’t send themselves back to their own common room,” He paused in thought, “well sometimes they do.” Potter snorted and Draco smirked before turning around and collecting his bag. He made his way to the door and opened it, turning back around slightly.

“Potter.” He said with a nod.

“Malfoy.” Potter replied without looking up from his notebook. 

Draco closed the door and strode along the corridor, not stopping until he had descended two of the staircases. He leant heavily against a wall. He had been right when he’d discovered that he was one of few things that got a reaction out of the Gryffindor and that pissed him off almost as much as the thought that they had so much in common. Potter was as worried about losing Lupin as much as Draco was worried about losing Severus and the blond found himself sympathising with Potter. The dark haired boy would be a perfect addition to the IC but to be with Potter the same way he was with the others? The thought was preposterous.

Draco simply couldn’t see the physical appeal. Potter was scrawny, still vertically challenged, his face gaunt and eyes rimmed with tired circles.

_Very much like you._

Draco cursed his inner Severus and politely told it to take its logic and bugger off. There was Potter’s power to think about though. Merlin knows Draco was very clearly drawn to those with powerful magic. Draco was starting to think rationally and he wasn’t particularly pleased about it. Closing his eyes he thumped the back of his head against the stone wall, wondering which way it was to St. Mungo’s.

\- - -

**To Be Continued…?**   
_A/N: No prizes for guessing why I liked this chapter. That part where Draco pulled off the handle actually happened to me once, it was so random that when I got shouted at I just laughed. Thanks as always go out to everyone who reviewed the last chapter, everyone who read and didn’t review- thanks for taking the time to read but I will be forced to prod you with Lucius’ cane should you not take an extra two minutes to review! In regards to side-fics: …erm you’ll get them eventually!_  
Take care sweetheart.  
Kisses,  
Aurora Enkeli Medeis. 

\- - -


	35. Chapter XXXV

  
Author's notes: "You're beyond now- redemption, and no one's going to catch you when you fall." Harry’s back at Hogwarts. His allegiances are wavering. It’s only a matter of time… [Slash, self-harm, eating disorders, drug use…]  


* * *

** Beyond Redemption **   
_By Sisters of Darkness_

\- - -

For this Chapter:

**Rating(s)** : R-Rated.  
 **Pairing(s)** : Mild Remus Lupin/ Severus Snape.  
 **Warning(s)** : Mentions of Starvation and Cutting. 

\- - -

**Chapter XXXV**   
_By CS WhiteWolf_

**A** s soon as the door closed behind Malfoy, Harry stopped writing, dropping his head back against the wall behind him, heaving a sigh. It wasn’t as hard as he’d thought it would be- being civil to Malfoy that was. Not that that made it easy mind. Harry had been hard pressed not to bring up Malfoy’s presence in Remus’ rooms, his fist just itching to collide with one sharply defined cheekbone. Oh, Remus had explained to him- vaguely- as to the Slytherin’s presence but he had not elaborated and Harry knew he was omitting to tell him everything. 

Harry sighed again, checking his watch. It was almost ten. Curfew would be enforced soon. Not that he particularly cared- no one save Malfoy bothered him up here anyway and the blond was currently lassoing up random Hufflepuffs. He almost smiled at the thought before a scowl settled onto his features. Bloody Malfoy. 

He closed his eyes, taking a long drag of his cigarette, holding the smoke in his lungs for as long as he could before exhaling in a whoosh of air and smoke. Harry rubbed at his eyes, feeling the ache of tiredness setting in. His body felt heavy and weary, had been feeling heavy and weary for a while now. He supposed it had something to do with his steadily declining weight. His body not getting whatever it was it needed in order to keep him fit and healthy. 

Hermione would be waiting up to lecture him as soon as he returned to Gryffindor Tower, again, he knew. This was the third evening meal he’d missed this week. And considering he barely ate anything at breakfast or lunch anymore, well, he wasn’t really surprised at his declining state. What he was surprised at, however mildly, was how little he really seemed to care. 

Maybe Remus and Snape were right about him needing help. Scratch that. He knew they were right about him needing help. The question was whether he was willing or not to ask for and accept the help given to him. Running a hand through his hair, Harry heaved a third sigh before pushing the butt of his half-finished cigarette into a crevice between the stones, putting it out before flicking it through the opened window. 

He sat still a moment, staring out into the night sky, seeing the sparkle of stars peeking out between the blankets of black cloud, his eyes automatically seeking out the Dog Star, his gaze lingering there only momentarily before he swung his legs over the window-ledge and slipped back into the tower room. 

He was tired. So very tired. Not just in body, but in mind. He was tired of grieving. Tired of living day after day in a blurry haze of half-dream, half-memory with a pinch of reality thrown in for tormenting measure. It was only when he was around… certain people that he felt even a measure of normality, or life sparkling back into him. 

He shook his head to clear his thoughts, not wanting to think on it as he shoved his journal and quill into his book bag- uncaring of the ink smudging into his books and parchments- before he upped and left the Astronomy Tower. His feet taking him down staircases and along corridors- the route committed to memory as he made his way almost unconsciously towards Remus’ rooms, his thoughts turning to the brown-haired man. 

Though the werewolf had invited him to visit this evening, the invite was only a request and not a veiled order as Harry had expected. They hadn’t spoken much the night before. Harry had been too exhausted after everything that had happened that night to have had the serious conversation he could see that Remus wanted to have. 

So the werewolf had just held him a little longer before slipping him a sleeping draught from Snape’s stocks and sending him off to bed with a request to come down and visit with him the following night. This evening. 

Harry knew there would be some form of lecture involved with tonight’s visit, but he couldn’t bright himself to care. He just really wanted to see Remus, to he held close by the man, to both forget and remember who and what he was. And if he had to be lectured in the process? He gave a mental shrug. Then so be it. 

He finally stopped just outside Remus’ private quarters, raising his hand and knocking upon the door. Never again would he just walk into the werewolf’s rooms. No matter how much Remus insisted that Harry could use his room whenever he so desired- that they, through Remus himself, were Harry’s rooms also, he could not bear to walk in on anything the werewolf might be doing. Whether it was making out with Snape or hugging Malfoy- Harry just did not want to know. 

He rubbed at his eyes again, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose as he knocked them slightly skew, waiting for Remus to answer his door- either physically or verbally. So when the door finally opened to admit him, Harry found himself mildly surprised to find Snape standing before him instead of Remus. He tensed automatically under the man’s gaze, noting that the Potions Master seemed unsurprised to see him. 

“Come in, Harry,” Remus’ voice called from within the room. Harry turned his eyes to look at Snape, the man scrutinised him a moment longer before stepping back and gesturing for Harry to enter. 

“I can come back tomorrow if you’re busy?” Harry called out, looking into the room for sight of Remus before his gaze slanted over to the Potions Master. Snape looked as if he were resisting the urge to scowl at him. 

Remus stepped into sight, sending both Harry and Severus a bemused smile, “No, no, not at all, Harry. We were expecting you.” He gestured Harry to come in, pulling him into a brief hug as soon as he’d entered. Harry barely had time to inhale a whiff of Remus’ scent before the werewolf had moved off into his kitchenette area. 

He watched as Remus opened and closed a few cupboards, removing mugs and pots containing teabags and sugar before turning to look at both him and Snape- both of whom were still standing in the same place as he’d left them, Remus smiled softly his gaze returning to Harry as he spoke, “Why don’t you and Severus go sit down? I’ll bring the tea through in a moment.” His eyes flickered up to Severus, his smile brightening slightly before he turned back to the now whistling kettle. 

“Come, Harry,” Harry turned slightly, looking up to see Severus shoot him a neutral look before moving over towards the sofa, choosing to take the left side. He watched as Snape fixed his robes about him, stretching his legs out towards the fireplace and crossing them. 

Snape turned his head to look over the back of the chair after a moment, one elegantly shaped eyebrow rising up at Harry’s lack of movement, a smirk touching at Snape’s thin lips when Harry’s skin flushed lightly as broke from his stupor and made his way over to the couch, intent on sitting on the right side- leaving a wide birth between himself and Snape. He’d taken only two steps forward however when Remus appeared at his side holding a tray of tea and biscuits. 

He cocked his head slightly at Harry, a frowned smile upon his lips as he moved forward, setting the tray on the coffee-table before turning back to the boy, reaching out to his shoulders and tugging him forward, manoeuvring him into position before giving him a gentle shove down and onto the couch.

Harry landed beside Snape, his side brushing up against the Potions Master a moment before he shifted, intent on moving to the other side of the couch when Remus sat also, leaving Harry stuck in the middle. 

Harry frowned at the werewolf, opening his mouth to ask if Remus wouldn’t rather sit beside Snape. The werewolf shook his head. 

“We wish to speak with you, Harry,” Was all he said, reaching for his mug of tea as Severus did the same. Harry looked down at his hands, folding them awkwardly in his lap. He could feel the movements of both Remus and Severus, shifting and shuffling as they settled back into the couch. 

Harry wetted his lips, biting at his bottom one as he wondered what both Remus and Snape wished to speak to him about. He’d come expecting a lecture from Remus, sure, but that didn’t explain Snape’s presence. He didn’t want the Potions Master here, not when it was his time to be with Remus. 

Remus said something Harry didn’t quite catch as his thoughts were turned inwards, eyes glazed and unseeing stared down at his hands and the way the fingers of his right hand pinched little grooved into the skin of his left with his nails. A hand closed over his, stopping his movements. He jerked, his eyes focussing before shooting up to look at Remus. 

The werewolf reached out to stroke his face, a worried look in his eyes. It was Snape’s hands on his own. 

“Wha-,” He began, turning his head to look fleetingly at Snape whilst tugging his hands away. 

“Are you okay, Harry?” He looked back at Remus, swallowing against a suddenly dry mouth. 

“Ya,” He said, clearing his throat as the word came out as more of a choking sound, “Yes, I’m fine, just tired is all.”

“If you’re sure?” 

Harry nodded his head, berating himself for his lapse in concentration. Now was most certainly not the time to be drifting off into his thoughts, his mind. 

“This is actually one of the things we wished to speak to you about, Harry.” 

“What is?” Harry raised his eyebrows at the werewolf, “Whether I’m feeling alright or not?” 

Remus gave a vague roll of his shoulders, “In a way, yes.” He took a sip of his tea, smiling around his mouthful at Harry’s indignant look before swallowing and moving to take another sip. 

“You have been rather distant of late, Mr Potter… Harry,” Harry turned to look at Snape, not quite meeting the man’s eyes as he straightened slightly. 

“Have I?” 

Snape nodded, his hair moving about to frame his face, Harry noted it wasn’t as greasy as it usually was. 

“Starving oneself does have such an affect on people,” Snape said softly. 

Harry met the man’s eyes, “I’m not starving myself,” He replied, his mouth dry though his expression showing his offence at the accusation. 

“No?” Harry shook his head, Snape leaned forward slightly, “Then tell me, Mr Potter, when was the last time you ate a proper meal?” 

“At lunch,” He lied, his eyes slanting to the left, avoiding Severus’ own, missing the way they glittered dangerously. 

“You weren’t in the Great Hall,”

“I went to the kitchens,” 

Snape’s hand shot up, grabbing at his chin and tugging him to look up, to meet the Potions Master’s gaze. Harry jerked his head, trying to pull away from Severus’ hand even as he called Remus’ name, a slight hint of panic in his voice. Remus put a hand on Harry’s shoulder but otherwise said and did nothing more. Harry’s breathing quickened, heart thumping against his chest at what was happening. 

“Mr Potter,” Harry’s eyes flickered up, flinching slightly at the look in Snape’s eyes, “Miss Granger is not the only one who checks with the house elves.” 

Harry’s eyes widened momentarily before his face hardened. He wrenched his chin from Snape’s hold, batting Remus’ hand from him before twisting about on the sofa in order to better face the two men. 

“Exactly what is it you want from me?” He asked with a scowl, “I don’t appreciate being checked up on,” 

“Someone has to look out for you Harry,” Remus said, eyeing the boy calmly, “You’re obviously not doing it yourself,” He watched as Harry’s adam’s apple bobbed over a thick swallow, his jaw clenching tightly. 

“I can take care of myself,” 

Severus snorted, “Keep going the way you are, Potter and there is every chance you may not see Christmas.” Harry opened his mouth to protest about exaggerations when Snape’s glare forced him to hold his tongue. 

“We’ve left you for as long as we dare now, this has been going on since the last school year, should you continue in this self-destructive behaviour, and I don’t just mean by your starving yourself, however intentional it may be to you. If you don’t start eating and building up the vitamins and nutrients you’ve been depriving your body of, then you will continue to waste away as you have been.” 

“I’m not wasting away, I’m doing just fine. I don’t need you of all people trying to help me out.” 

“You’re not doing fine, Harry,” Began Remus, “That’s the problem. We’ve never spoken of your eating habits before, we’ve talked over everything else but never this. I dare not leave you to your own devices any longer.” He shot Severus a quick glance before leaning forward and taking Harry’s hands in his own. 

“You promised me you wouldn’t kill yourself, Harry, that you weren’t suicidal. Depriving your body of food is just another form of harming yourself- like your cutting; only it’s harder to hide from everyone. We’re not the only ones who’ve noticed this Harry; you have to understand we’re only looking out for you. I- we- don’t want you to die, Harry.” 

“I’m not…” Harry took a deep breath, running a hand through his hair as he fought to keep down a blush of embarrassment that Snape was here to hear such words to him from Remus, “It’s not on purpose.” He finally whispered. It was as close to a confession as they were likely to get. 

Remus squeezed the hand he still held.

“Dumbledore is getting worried about you too, Harry,” Snape said, waiting for Harry to turn to him before continuing, “He brought up mention of you at the staff meeting he called today.” 

Harry frowned at him, looking at Remus for confirmation. The werewolf nodded, “I managed to talk him out of calling you to his office, offering to speak with you myself on the matter.” 

“Would you have brought this up if Dumbledore hadn’t?” He pursed his lips, wondering why on earth Dumbledore would care about his eating habits at all if he were just a weapon. 

Then again, why would Snape care about the same thing were he not a potential one for the dark side. That didn’t explain Remus’ concern though, did it? He wasn’t intentionally starving himself. Surely they must see that? It was just that he was rarely ever hungry these days. He still ate on occasion, he ate at least one meal each day, or part of one meal. It wasn’t enough, he knew, but he didn’t much care, or hadn’t… until it was brought up. He didn’t want to hurt Remus. 

“Perhaps not tonight, but sooner rather than later.” Remus rubbed soothing circles across the back of Harry’s hand with his thumb, “Severus wasn’t lying when he said you’re wasting away, Christmas isn’t that long off Harry, I don’t want to see you… I- is this about Sirius?” 

Harry froze, his body tensing as he looked to Remus in shock, his mouth opening and closing a few times but nothing emitting. 

“Is it?” 

Harry tried to speak but words failed him. The very mention of Sirius sending a pang of muted sorrow through him atop every other emotion he was feeling this night. 

“No- not now, Remus,” Harry’s eyes flickered between both men, “I- just not, I don’t want to talk about him tonight.” 

“Harry-”

“Please, Remus!”

“Remus,” Harry and Remus looked to Severus who shook his head at the werewolf. Remus closed his eyes momentarily before nodding, agreeing not to mention Sirius this evening. 

“The question you should be asking, Harry,” Said Severus, effectively drawing the boy’s attention and avoiding having him slip into his thoughts, “Is what we intend to do about this matter.” He swiped a hand down his robes, straightening out the thick material. 

“It is in everyone’s interests that you do not meet with the headmaster until your Occlumency is up to scratch, as such I will attempt to teach you in such a manner that will help you grasp the subject better,” 

Harry blinked at the Potion’s Master, unsure whether to be insulted or impressed at the way Snape made it out to be his idea originally, like Harry hadn’t asked him to teach him properly the night before. 

Severus sent him a smirk as if reading his thoughts, which Harry conceded he very well may have been. But Snape continued speaking, informing Harry that his eating habits would now be monitored as well to ensure he was eating properly, because in order for him to become efficient at Occlumency, he would have to have a strong and stable mind and though being fatigued from lack of nourishment was only one reason as to his distant and fatigued persona, it was a step up and in the right direction. 

“And you will need to start taking one of these to help speed up the process,” Reaching into one of his many pockets, Severus withdrew a vial of what looked to be a lime green potion. “This is a nutritional potion,” Clarified Severus at Harry’s curious look. “It will help to give your body some of the nutrients it is lacking at the moment but you will need to eat as well if it is to work.”

Harry nodded timidly receiving the vial from Snape’s hand. 

“I mean it, Potter, you must eat. Start with bland foods if you find your stomach rebelling.” 

Harry nodded his head again, feeling slightly… overwhelmed. He barely paid attention when Snape made his excuses to leave, didn’t acknowledge the man when he stood up to leave, placing his half-finished mug back on the tray beside Harry’s own untouched mug of cooling tea. Remus got up and saw Snape to the door whilst Harry stared at the liquid swirling about the vial. 

“Take it now, Harry,” Harry blinked, looking up to see the Potions Master turn away from him to look at Remus, the werewolf leaned in to say something to Snape, his hand laying atop Severus’ arm. He watched, with a strange fascination as Remus pulled away to plant a soft kiss to the side of Severus’ mouth, smiling chastely at the man before Severus leant in for a proper kiss. 

His own swirling thoughts forgotten for the moment, Harry watched with rapt and eerie attention as Remus and Snape kissed. He felt a pang in his chest of jealously and resentment warring with curiosity and longing as the two men claimed each other with their lips, a brief flick of tongue seen before it disappeared again. 

Snape changed the angle of his kiss, opening his eyes and slanting his hooded gaze over to Harry. The boy felt a spike of arousal shoot through him at the sinful image such a site made, wishing for the briefest of moments that it were he who was there in place of Remus. 

The kiss broke off and Harry flushed heavily as Snape sent him a smirk, his eyes widening as he felt the briefest of brushes against his mind. Harry hurriedly twisted in his seat, looking away from the two men and pushing himself back into the couch. Swallowing the slightly bitter taste that took over his mouth as he realised just what the hell he’d been thinking of. And Snape… Harry shivered; Snape had Legilimised him, or tried to. Had he seen? Seen the flicker of lust, or want that had Harry wishing he were in Remus’ place? 

His stomach did an awkward flop at the thought, as if not quite sure whether to be pleased or sickened at the very thought of his thoughts. 

The couch dipped as Remus sat down beside him, returned from seeing Severus out. 

“Harry, Harry? You okay?” Harry blinked out of his thoughts, turning to Remus, his face still burning. He gave an awkward shrug of his shoulders, sighing as he thought of this as another problem to add to his ever-growing list. Next thing he knew he’d be palling around with Malfoy. 

Remus touched at his face, bringing him out of his musings once more, another concerned look upon his face. Harry gave a small smile, shifting closer towards the werewolf and cuddling up at his side. 

“I’m okay, Moony, just tired.” He whispered, cradling the nutritional potion to his chest as Remus wrapped an arm about him. 

“It’ll be okay, cub,” Remus said quietly, carding a hand through Harry’s hair. “You’ll see, it’ll all turn out okay.” 

\- - -

**To Be Continued…?**   
_A/N: Well here it is folks, finally chapter35 is posted! Apologies for the delay, I was taken on holiday and hadn’t a chance to finish it before I left, I just got back yesterday evening and made sure to get this finished for you all for tonight! Hope it’s up to scratch and I can only apologise again for it taking so long to get out to you guys. If anyone wants to know the current news for BR’s (chapter) progress or any related news, check out our_[LiveJournal](http://www.livejournal.com/users/br_inner_circle/), we usually leave a mention or two of when chapters should be posted and whatnots.   
Thanks to everyone who has been reading and reviewing! You guys continue to amaze us with your responses. Aurora and myself have decided to release out BR sidefics (yes these ever elusive things) once we reach 200reviews on HPfandom to mark the occasion and thank everyone who’s reviewed for getting us so far!  
Also for anyone who now wonders off to LJ may I interest you in the community Sisters of Darkness has created for anyone writing slightly darker fanfiction? If so, [click here](http://www.livejournal.com/community/_inner_circle_/) to find out more about it, we’ve had a pretty good response to it so far, so join up folks!  
That’s all for now I think, so thanks again for reading and please review!  
Peace,   
CS WhiteWolf 

\- - -


	36. Chapter XXXVI

  
Author's notes: "You're beyond now- redemption, and no one's going to catch you when you fall." Harry’s back at Hogwarts. His allegiances are wavering. It’s only a matter of time… [Slash, self-harm, eating disorders, drug use…]  


* * *

** Beyond Redemption **   
_By Sisters of Darkness_

\- - -

For this Chapter:

**Rating(s)** : R-Rated.  
 **Pairing(s)** : None (Nope, still no Drarry, for Salazar’s sake!)  
 **Warning(s)** : Adult Language.  
\- - -

**Chapter XXXVI**   
_By Aurora Enkeli Medeis_

**T** he mid-December air was crisp, biting at Draco’s lungs with every inhalation. The sky was clear, another night of frost seeming inevitable, deep blue merging with light hues where the sun was setting. It was the one thing that annoyed Draco most about winter- how early the sun set. 

He hoisted his broom back onto his shoulder from where it was slipping, gripping it tightly. His feet crunched on the dead leaves as he walked out onto the Quidditch pitch. Before he could mount his broom he caught sight of a black blur streaking over his head to the other side of the pitch. With speed like that it could only be one person.

Draco sauntered out into the middle of the pitch, broom held by his side and a hand on his hip as he waited for Potter to notice him. Sure enough, as the black haired boy did a sharp turn through one of the hoops he stopped dead and stared at Draco before heading into a dive.

Briefly, Draco wondered hopefully if his presence had pushed Potter to commit suicide by diving off his broom but mere feet from the ground the Gryffindor pulled his Firebolt level and came to a stop just in front of Draco. Before the blond could open his mouth Potter had was already speaking.

“Malfoy, why the fuck are you wearing your Quidditch uniform? Slytherin practice isn’t until Thursday.”

Draco blinked, caught off guard having been expecting an unpleasant comment and subsequently being told where to go. He gathered his composure quickly.

“Because I’m flying, Potter. School robes hinder flying ability,” Draco replied matter-of-factly. 

“Oh,” Potter looked thoughtful for a moment, “what’s your excuse the rest of the time then?” Potter gave Draco an infuriatingly innocent look and the Slytherin was sneering before he could stop himself. Potter flew casually in a circle around Draco, reminding the blond forcibly of a fly that dearly needed swatting. 

“Now, now, Potter, there’s no need for petty insults,” Draco said, calming himself down as he mounted his broom, “there is enough pitch for the both of us,” with that, Draco kicked off from the hard ground, cold air whipping his blond hair about his face.

He did a quick lap of the pitch, all the time aware of Potter watching him. Draco paused at the goalpost at the left end of the pitch, hovering as he watched Potter rise up and speed off to the other end. Draco leant forward, speeding off and only slowing as he neared Potter. He mimicked the Gryffindor’s own action and circled the air just above Potter’s head.

“Maybe the real question would be- why aren’t you wearing your robes?” He asked with a raised eyebrow. Potter scowled. “Perhaps,” Draco continued, “you don’t feel much like a Gryffindor anymore?” Draco threw a smirk over his shoulder as he looped around the top of the goalpost, catching an upside down glimpse of Potter before he righted himself and sped off.

By the time he’d reached the middle of the pitch Potter had already caught up with him.

“Don’t start acting like you understand me,” He called over the rush of air in their ears, “I mean, there was a time when I would have said you were wearing the robes to impress girls but well…” Potter trailed off as the two of them rounded the goalposts and doubled back, “I know I’d be well off the mark with that.”

Potter sped up, his Firebolt easily out stripping Draco’s Nimbus. Draco scowled, turning sharply and dropping into a dive. Just before he reached the hard grass of the pitch, Draco pulled his broom vertical, sending him straight upwards. He screeched to a dead halt almost fifty feet above the pitch and hovered as he pushed his hair off of his face. He watched Potter coming towards him and then fly past, stopping just above his shoulder.

“Why don’t you ever fly like that during our matches? I know you bought your way onto the team but you’re not half bad really,” Draco shot upwards, bringing himself level with Potter.

“I didn’t buy my way onto the team,” Draco spat, his broom tail knocking with Potter’s as he leaned in.

“It certainly looked that way,” Potter said nonchalantly, flying away slightly. Draco was not pleased about Potter being the one with the upper hand verbally. He had a retort, a painful one, but he knew the repercussions. “It’s sad really how your _daddy_ had to buy your way into a Quidditch team,” That was the last straw. It wasn’t exactly easy to be civil to Potter when he was acting like this.

_Like how he used to act_ , the infuriatingly Severus like voice murmured.

“And who bought you your Firebolt, Potter? Surely that must be a pleasant story,” Draco was sure that somewhere in the dungeons Severus had to be rubbing his temples in annoyance. Potter swung his broom round; staring dangerously back at Draco who realised that he should really learn to keep his mouth shut.

“Potter,” Draco started but Potter held up a hand.

“Save it, Malfoy,” was all he said before dropping into a dive. Draco groaned in frustration, wishing for a brief moment that he could just flop off the side of his broom and plummet to his death. But that would never do- Malfoy’s are too dignified to flop. For the smallest second, Draco found himself wondering if, were he to fall, Potter would swoop in like the boy wonder he was and catch him. 

It had been nearly fairly easy in the Astronomy Tower to be civil so what was the problem now? He figured it was probably the rampant testosterone his mother always complained caused fights and arguments when Quidditch was in the equation. In the split second that it took Draco to blink, Potter was hovering in front of him. Draco blinked again in shock.

“You never answered my question,” Potter said, causing Draco to wonder why he’d brushed off his last comment. The constant goading was getting tiring and maybe Potter felt it too. “Is it that you’re too busy looking at who is going for the snitch to notice the snitch itself?” Potter flew off before Draco could process what he had meant.

When it finally hit him, Draco scowled indignantly at the flying Gryffindor. It was quite probably the most ridiculous thing he had heard since Severus told him Potter may be joining the IC. He had never looked at Potter with anything more than utter loathing and, as of late, mild contempt. Never once had he thought of the Gryffindor as more than a pain in his arse.

_Then maybe you should get thinking._

“Oh for fuck’s sake!” Draco growled, doing a quick loop before hovering again.

“Talking to yourself? A sure sign of madness.” Potter shouted up at him. Draco growled again, beginning a slow circling lap of the pitch. He watched Potter flying, diving and circling, noticing the way his mop of black hair stuck out at a thousand different angles. 

If Potter did decide to join the IC then his inner Potions Master was right- he _would_ have to start looking at Potter in a whole new and, in Draco’s opinion, rather disturbing light. Potter flew up beside him, accidentally on purpose jarring Draco’s broom and causing him to wobble.

The blond scowled and took off after Potter, finding it difficult to catch up with the Firebolt. _That_ was the bloody reason he didn’t seem to play well- Potter had a world-class broom for Merlin’s sake. Finally they were neck and neck and Draco had a sneaking suspicion that Potter had in fact slowed down. 

He gave Potter a quick look over. His hair was nothing short of a state, eyes bright green behind hideous glasses. There was a flush on his cheeks from the cold air and, had he not been able to see the tip of two cuts sticking out the sleeve of Potter’s robes, Draco could have almost sworn that this was the Harry Potter whom every one had once known. Boy-Who-Lived and seeker extraordinaire, defender of all things good and righteous. Draco slowed down, suddenly feeling rather nauseous.

Luckily for him, and the Inner Circle, Potter was not that naïve little Gryffindor anymore. He was a godfather shagging, self-harming smoker who looked like death most of the time because he barely eats and rarely sleeps. This was a Potter who ignored his best friends and appeared less and less Gryffindor like each day. Draco watched Potter ascending vertically on his broom.

This, he supposed, was a Potter he could grow to not hate. 

The blond frowned- he’d obviously had far too much fresh air and was slowly becoming delirious. He leant forward on his broom, taking himself into a gentle descent. When his toes skimmed the grass, Draco swung his leg off the broom and stepped down onto the ground. He could hear Potter flying just above him and he looked up. 

“Not bad flying, Potter.” He shouted up, turning quickly and swinging his broom over his shoulder. He shook his head at himself as he made his way quickly back up to the castle. 

\- - -

On his way through the dungeons, Draco took the corridor that would lead him to Severus’ classroom, having intended to pay the Potions Master a visit before returning to the dormitory to change for dinner.

He knocked on the door three times before pushing it open and closing it behind him.

“I was looking for you earlier,” Severus said without looking up, “where were you?”

Draco frowned and looked down at his Quidditch robes and then to the broom in his hand before answering.

“A seminar on the breeding habits of dragons,” He answered quickly, lips quirking into a smirk.

“Indeed, strange choice of attire for a seminar. Wouldn’t you think?” Severus asked casually, dipping his quill in a pot of red ink. A response of “I flew there” was on the tip of his tongue but he chose just to snort in response as he leant his Nimbus against a workbench.

“Why were you looking for me?” Draco asked, making his way over to Severus’ desk. The Potions Master held up a vial of lime green potion instead of responding. Draco raised an eyebrow, “It’s a nutritional potion: works wonders- tastes awful.”

Severus looked up from the parchment and gave Draco a pointed look from behind hanging locks of dark hair. Draco rolled his eyes and took the offered vial, uncorking it and quickly downing it’s contents.

“Potter is now receiving the same potion,” Severus told him. Draco sat the vial back down and hopped up onto a nearby desk.

“Good, that will prevent him dropping dead from starvation in the middle of class.”

“Careful, Draco, someone might think you cared,” Severus said as he sat his parchment on the top of a pile.

“Please, I was merely thinking of how traumatised the other students would be after seeing the Wizarding World saviour fall down dead while trying to transfigure a rat into a plate.”

Severus snorted, taking the empty vial and sliding it into a pocket of his robes.

“That sounds rather self-less,” Severus remarked and Draco shrugged, “either you are under the effects of the Imperius or you have had far too much fresh air,” This time it was Draco’s turn to snort as Severus echoed his own thoughts.

“The latter, I can assure you. I was flying, with Potter just so you know,” Draco added offhandedly. Severus raised an eyebrow.

“And you have both returned unscathed?” Severus asked causing Draco to roll his eyes.

“It would appear so,” he replied, jumping down from the desk, he went across the room to pick up his broom when he stopped and turned around, “are you watching Potter to make sure he eats?”

“It is being taken care of.”

Draco frowned, picking up his broom and opening the classroom door.

“Bye,” he called back over his shoulder. Severus responded with a “Goodbye” and Draco shut the door, still frowning. From Severus’ ambiguous answer, Draco guessed that the Potions Master would indeed be watching. It bothered Draco. Not the fact that Severus would be watching Potter, no, he found himself bothered that he wasn’t bothered. Draco groaned, running his hands through his hair. Trust everything to become twice as bloody confusing once Potter was involved.

\- - -

**To Be Continued…?**   
_A/N: No prizes for guessing that I liked this chapter as well. It was certainly fun to write. Those ever elusive things more commonly known as side-fics are now done as a thank you to reviewers- on hpfandom, for getting us to 200 (well really 199)reviews and on The Silver Snitch, for getting us past the 100 mark on that site as well. You guys rock my rather un-Slytherin like pink socks._  
Take care sweethearts,  
Aurora Enkeli Medeis. 

\- - -


	37. Chapter XXXVII

  
Author's notes: "You're beyond now- redemption, and no one's going to catch you when you fall." Harry’s back at Hogwarts. His allegiances are wavering. It’s only a matter of time…  
[Slash, self-harm, eating disorders, drug use… AU5]  


* * *

** Beyond Redemption **   
_By Sisters of Darkness_

\- - -

For this Chapter:

**Rating(s)** : R-Rated.  
 **Pairing(s)** : Mention of Severus Snape/Remus Lupin.  
 **Warning(s)** : Mentions of Eating Disorder.

\- - -

**Chapter XXXVII**   
_By CS WhiteWolf_

**I** t was with an odd sort of contentedness that Harry left the quidditch pitch and began the trek back up to the castle. He shifted his beloved Firebolt in its position on his shoulder as he mused over the unrealism that was flying, with Draco Malfoy, and not having once felt the urge to dive-bomb the Slytherin… okay, so maybe he’d wanted to pummel the blond into the ground when he’d brought up his broom, but he’d refrained. After all, he had made comment of the other boy’s precious father. 

A wry smile touched his lips as he finally reached the stone steps leading up into Hogwarts, he turned to momentarily stare down the path he’d trod, his eyes watching as the quidditch pith slowly became nothing more than a blackened silhouette against the darkened sky. Harry shook his head disbelievingly- flying with Malfoy, and civilly at that. What was the world coming too? Next thing he knew he’d be proclaiming his undying love for Voldemort and lusting over Snape. An odd squirming in his stomach had Harry flushing and vigorously shaking his head as his treacherous mind informed him that the second one didn’t seem so far off the mark last night. 

It was the footsteps and murmurings of hundreds of students as they made their way towards the Great Hall for dinner that broke him from his musings. Thankful for the distraction, Harry threw one last look in the direction of the Quidditch Pitch before entering the school, he paused long enough in the entrance hall to shift his broom vertically so as to protect it from the bumps and bruises that accompanied pushing through a stampede of hungry children intend on heading in the opposite direction from himself. 

The pause however, also brought with it two stragglers, as he noticed Ron and Hermione pushing their way over towards him. He thought vaguely of ducking down and bolting it through the crowds but another vicious bump to his side and a foot stamping on his by another bottomless-pit of a first-year had him reconsidering. Instead he moved over towards the side, out of the way of students and waited for his friends- a bitter taste filled his mouth, gods it was so hard just thinking of such a term in relation to them. 

“Hey, Harry!” Ron reached him first, “Hey, you went flying?” His voice was almost accusatory as he eyed the broom in Harry’s hand, Harry merely nodded, resisted the urge to roll his eyes and snap out a sarcastic retort worthy of Snape, thankfully- or not depending on how the rest of their meeting went- he was saved from responding to Ron by Hermione’s appearance. 

“Hello, Harry,” Hermione gave him a bright smile, one that could not mask the look of curious, calculation in her eyes. Harry scowled inwardly whilst giving her a small smile in return. 

“Hey,” He responded, shifting a little as they looked at him, as if expecting something, “listen guys,” he began, “I have to go see Snape, before dinner, he ah… he wants to see me about a detention-,” He ignored Hermione’s disapproving glare and Ron’s shudder at the notion of spending time with ‘ _the greasy git_ ’, “I’ll see you at dinner?” He tried, unsuccessfully. 

“We’ll come with you, wait outside while you speak with him, then we can all go to dinner together.” 

Won’t that be nice? Harry thought sourly, knowing Hermione was only determined to see him eating this evening. He glanced over at Ron in time to see the redhead’s grimace (though whether at the thought of being anywhere near Slytherin territory and Snape when he most certainly didn’t have to be, or at the prospect of missing the start of dinner and losing precious eating time, Harry was not entirely sure.) 

Harry shrugged and silently turned towards the dungeons, shifting his broom again as Ron and Hermione fell into position on either side of him as he made his way down. Most of the Slytherins had already vacated the dungeons but the few that hadn’t gave the trio curious, even resentful looks for being down here during the dinner hour. 

Harry ignored them all. Hermione kept up a feigned and often forced smile as hisses of ‘ _mudblood_ ’ echoed from the daring. Ron scowled, an ugly look on his face that showed just how much he detested Slytherins and their dungeons. 

It was almost with relief that he caught site of Malfoy and his entourage heading in their direction, until he noticed Crabbe and Goyle flanking him, and though Pansy Parkinson was trying to cling to him, and Blaise Zabini was looking on with amusement masked with passiveness, Harry felt a prickle of distaste as he related Ron and Hermione to Malfoy’s two goonies. 

It was a fleeting comparison, especially when you took into account the fact that Crabbe and Goyle barely seemed to have enough brain cells between them to be considered anything further up the food chain than trolls, but it was a comparison all the same. Harry briefly had time to wonder if he’d have to put up with the two thugs in place of their Gryffindor counterparts should he accept the Inner Circle’s offer, then Ron and Malfoy got close enough to clash, and his thoughts went to hell in a hand basket. Wands were drawn, insults thrown, and really- Harry mused as he pushed passed them and kept on his way towards Snape’s office- he really couldn’t care less. 

A part of him hoped that both boys would hex each other into oblivion. The sadistic part of him hoped it was Ron who came out worse for wear- though considering the two versus five scenario going on, it was more than likely that should anyone be hexed, Ron most certainly would be bearing the brunt of it all. Harry almost expected to feel guilty. And he did. Just not at the thought of having Ron hexed, but rather at feeling guiltless over having the thought. 

He frowned once more, running a hand through his coarse hair as he tried to understand what it all meant. Brought forth from his musings by the hand touching at his shoulder- Harry jumped in fright, cursing himself for once again drifting off into his head and losing track of everything else around him. He looked up into Snape’s dark eyes, they were masked from all emotion even as they swept over Harry, taking in both his appearance and the broom still safely and possessively held in his grip before looking up the hallway, head turned in the direction Harry had just arrived from. Loud voices- Harry hadn’t realised how loud until he was listening to them- met their ears. 

“Mr Potter?” 

Harry shrugged, “Ron and Malfoy,” 

Snape raised an eyebrow, removing his hand from Harry shoulder. 

“Weasley!” He shouted. Harry winced. The voices stopped shouting. There was silence and then…

“Yes, sir?” 

“Detention! Report to Filch tomorrow after dinner!”

Angry mutterings, no matter how soft still seemed to reach their ears. 

“The lot of you get up to dinner!” 

More grumbling, this time from the Slytherins as well, but the sounds of retreating footsteps assured Severus that his orders were being followed. Harry tried to feel guilty for having got Ron a detention as he stepped into Snape’s office, but his stomach just grumbled with the faint stirrings of hunger instead of twisting with remorse.

Severus smirked at him, closing the door behind them as he entered the room also. 

“At least your stomach knows when to eat, even if you do not.” He gestured Harry to follow him over towards his desk. 

“It stops after a while.” Harry bit his lip, wishing he hadn’t spoken when Snape’s attention snapped to him again, his eyes sharp. 

“No doubt,” His voice was smooth but there was an edge to it, “But when it’s finished with the meagre amount of food inside, it then- to put it in terms even you could understand- starts eating itself.”

Harry opened his mouth to respond, grimaced at the thought of his stomach growing some huge many-toothed mouth and proceeding to bite chunks out of him, and closed it again, his hand unconsciously rubbing at his stomach, which gave another soft rumble- as if in contentment. 

“It doesn’t really?” He blurted when Snape turned back to his desk, reaching into one of his draws, “Eat itself I mean?” 

Severus straightened himself, a vial of that nutritional stuff he was now supposed to be taking in his long-fingered hands. He handed the potion to Harry who eyed it cautiously for a moment before gulping it down, shuddering slightly as he felt it sliding like some glutinous snake down his throat and eventually into his stomach… which would chew on that for a while at least.

He handed the empty bottle back to Snape, waiting for the man to answer him as opposed to just staring at him. Harry squirmed as the silence stretched between them, silence that hinted to Snape perhaps having something he wanted to say, but would prefer Harry got worked up over all matter of possibilities beforehand. 

So of course Harry’s first panicked thought was that Snape was going to bring up last night- last night where he’d watched, like some perverted vigilante, as Snape made out with Remus only to have Snape open his eyes and watch him as he watched them. His stomach jolted in an annoyingly pleasant way as the image filled his head once more. 

Snape cleared his throat. Harry looked up, freezing slightly as if preparing to be Legilimised. The Potions Master merely smirked at him. 

“We’ll need to work on your concentration, Harry. It’s unbecoming for one who’s prided himself on noticing every little thing over the years- usually those that should not concern him- to have become so ignorant to his surroundings.”

Harry shifted. “Nothing left to keep my attention. Sir.” He added as an afterthought, shifting and wondered why on earth he was admitting such a thing to Snape of all people. This was something he told Remus. Remus who actually cared about what he had to say. 

“Not even in the interests of self-preservation?” Harry stayed silent, watching as Snape touched at his thin lips, running a potions stained finger across the top lip before a smirk curled the edges. “No, I don’t suppose you’d be much interested in self-preservation at the moment.” His eyes stared intently into Harry’s, “That will change,” He said softly, seriously, his lips barely moving as he spoke. Harry swallowed heavily, almost believing the words the Potions Master spoke with such quiet conviction. 

Then Snape was smirking once more and whatever spell Harry had felt under was broken as the dark-haired man opened his mouth to ask Harry if he was sure there was _nothing_ that could keep his attention, “ _Nothing at all?_ ” 

Harry flushed. His mouth and throat suddenly dry, tongue sticking to the roof of his mouth as he tried to speak past thoughts of Remus and Snape kissing last night… kissing on the couch that one time he’d walked in… the same couch he’d kissed Remus on… and later thought of kissing Snape. 

“No, sir, nothing at all.” The gentle nudge against his mind, though not quite strong enough to invade his thoughts, was enough to let Harry know- without words- that Snape knew better, that he suspected there were some things Harry could think of to concentrate on seeing, on looking out for. 

Snape stepped closer towards him, his tall frame looming over Harry who found himself tilting his head slightly upwards and finding it oddly disturbing to think that the gesture felt more comforting than intimidating. His heart picked up speed as Snape leaned closer to him, his eyes never leaving Harry’s own, “Are you quite sure, Mr Potter?” 

Harry wiped a sweaty palm discreetly against his thigh, the hand holding his broom gripping it all the more tightly. Thoughts of kisses and mirrors and couches filled his mind even as he nodded his head slowly, eyes frozen on Snape.

“Go to dinner, Mr Potter. I expect to see you eating.” And then Snape was gone. And Harry blinked, turning to stare at the now opened classroom door, his eyes half-glazed in thought before his stomach gave another soft rumble of hunger. Harry winced, Snape never had told him whether he was lying about his stomach eating itself or not. 

\- - -

**To Be Continued…?**   
_A/N: Well folks, here it is, the first chapter of BR to be posted after HBP! Don’t worry anyone who’s read the book and worried about us abandoning BR or changing the current plot line in anyway to help it fit in with HBP- because we’re not going to. What we are going to do (and have done if you haven’t already noticed, is slap a nice little AU5 into our summary. As far as we’re concerned- HBP never happens, though we may borrow some intriguing points from it now and then._  
On another but related note (and this is ambiguous for those who haven’t read HBP yet) How much did we learn about our beloved Potions Master? As well as everyone’s favourite Dark Lord? :D And wasn’t it all just so delicious!?   
Thanks in advance to everyone who plans to stick with BR despite the new canon; it’s you we’re writing for!   
Peace,   
CS WhiteWolf 

\- - -


	38. Chapter XXXVIII

  
Author's notes: "You're beyond now- redemption, and no one's going to catch you when you fall." Harry’s back at Hogwarts. His allegiances are wavering. It’s only a matter of time…  
[Slash, self-harm, eating disorders, drug use… AU5]  


* * *

** Beyond Redemption **   
_By Sisters of Darkness_

\- - -

For this Chapter:

**Rating(s)** : R-Rated.  
 **Pairing(s)** : Mild Draco Malfoy/Severus Snape.  
 **Warning(s)** : Adult Language; Drug-Use; Hints at Self-Harm (Cutting).

\- - -

**Chapter XXXVIII**   
_By Aurora Enkeli Medeis_

**D** raco was having, for lack of more eloquent description, an absolutely shit day. From the moment he had woken up, all he could think about was getting a hit of cocaine. This had meant that every thing irritated him to the point of physically assaulting a Hufflepuff third year by tripping said Hufflepuff down the stairs. When he’d try to escape at lunchtime to find Severus, Draco had found the classroom empty and the Potions Master nowhere in sight. 

The most awful part of the entire day wasn’t the hour of Transfiguration theory or his sleeve catching fire in Charms. No, it seemed that every single place he went or looked, Potter was there. At first Draco had ignored it but it was becoming impossible- the bloody Gryffindor was everywhere. Either he was developing an unhealthy fixation on the dark-haired boy or he was losing his mind. Draco hoped it was the latter.

Now seated beside Blaise for the afternoons Potions lesson, Draco was silently pleading for Severus not to make it a practical lesson- he wasn’t sure how well his sanity would handle two lots of Potter-civility in two days. Severus swept into the classroom, door banging shut behind him.

“Move to sit beside your brewing partners and set up your cauldrons,” He ordered imperiously and Draco suppressed the urge to groan. 

Blaise cast him a sympathetic look as he picked up his bag and vacated his stool, leaving it free for Potter. Draco sat his cauldron on a stand in the middle of the desk as Potter sat down.

“Malfoy,” He said curtly, dropping his bag to the floor.

“Potter,” Draco responded, inclining his head slightly towards the Gryffindor. 

“Today you will be making the Draught of the Living Death. If brewed correctly each pair should be submitting a vial of lilac potion at the end of the lesson,” Severus waved his wand, “You’re instructions are on the board. Begin.”

Draco ran his finger along the list of ingredients, noticing how it shook slightly, and got up from his stool without a word. He wandered into the Potions cupboard, pushing past the others to where he knew the necessary ingredients were. Gathering up what he needed, Draco went back to his desk and sat everything down. Potter looked up from where he was reading the instructions.

“Slice up the sopophorous beans and collect the juice,” Draco instructed, he felt Potter frowning at him and he sighed quietly, “please,” He added. Potter seemed satisfied and picked up his knife, which Draco noticed Potter staring at slightly mesmerized before beginning. Draco frowned but shook his head slightly and began shredding the wormwood. 

They worked companionably, Draco every so often checking if Potter was doing his task properly. Potter looked deep in thought as he sliced the beans and Draco found himself wondering what was going on in the Gryffindor’s mind. Was Potter thinking about the IC? Or perhaps the oddity of this new, slightly strained, civility? 

Draco dropped the wormwood into the cauldron and withdrew his wand, casting an _incendio_ charm. Flames erupted beneath the cauldron and Draco picked up the asphodel roots, dropping them into his granite mortar. As he began mashing the roots into a fine powder he noticed Potter scowling as his chopping became fiercer. Draco looked across the room just in time to see the bushy head of Granger turn away. 

Potter was pissed off at his friend’s concern yet seemed willing to accept help from Severus. An interesting fact indeed.

Draco continued smashing the roots, switching his focus between the fine powder, watching Potter, watching Granger and ignoring his cravings. The Gryffindor was periodically looking round at Potter who was very obviously aware of her scrutiny. With all the sopophorous beans sliced and juiced, Potter slid a clump of valerian roots in front of him and lined them up. Draco watched as, with more force than necessary, Potter shredded the roots. 

Tipping the asphodel roots into the cauldron, Draco stirred them to infuse them with the wormwood. Small puffs of blue smoke began circling up from the cauldron and Draco smiled slightly in satisfaction. Granger was still watching and just as Draco was about to snap and direct a sneer at her there was a large explosion from that direction.

Draco’s head snapped up, only to see Granger covered in a dark liquid, clumps sticking to her bushy hair. Blaise, who had been working with her had luckily avoided the spray but looked livid at having a lessons work ruined.

“Fifteen points from Gryffindor for Miss Granger’s ineptitude, please remove yourself from the class and wash the potion from your skin and hair before it begins to burn,” Draco smirked as Granger’s eyes went wide and she darted around her desk, “Miss Granger,” Granger paused in the doorway, “another five points for failing to make a potion. Mr Zabini, you may remake the potion at your own convenience.”

Draco saw Blaise nod gratefully at Severus’ instruction and begin cleaning away what was left on his desk. Draco smirked at him before going back to stirring- just another benefit of being in Slytherin. Out the corner of his eye Draco noticed Potter’s shoulders give a slight shake and he looked round. 

The Gryffindor was biting his bottom lip, the sides of his mouth curving slightly. Draco, quick to get over his initial surprise at seeing Potter suppressing laughter because of Granger’s misfortune, gave the dark-haired boy a brief nudge to the ribs. Potter looked around, the smallest of smiles tugging at his mouth. Draco blatantly ignored the fact that he was almost pleased at Potter’s reaction and gave a small smile back.

Draco turned back to the cauldron and looked up to see Severus sitting at his desk, an eyebrow raised as he looked between Draco and Potter. The left side of Draco’s mouth twitched into a smirk as he raised his own eyebrow in response. Severus rolled his eyes and went back to what he was doing and Draco looked round to once again see Potter smiling, shaking his head slightly. Either Potter was amused by the absurdity of the situation or was descending into a hysterical state, Draco wasn’t sure which.

Absent-mindedly, Potter picked up the sliced valerian roots and went to add them to the potion. Seeker reflexes kicked in and Draco’s hand shot out to grab Potter’s wrist. He felt the ridges of cuts, old and new, scrape beneath the tips of his fingers. Potter tensed, jerking his head to face Draco. 

“Wrong ingredient,” the blond said, pulling Potter’s wrist and hand away from the cauldron. He nodded to the juice collected from the beans, “Add that then stir counter-clockwise,” he instructed, letting Potter’s wrist go. The dark-haired boy nodded and sat the roots back down. 

Draco tidied away his pestle and mortar, watching happily as the potion emitted more blue smoke and became deep purple in colour. Gradually, he sprinkled in the valerian roots and left Potter to stir the potion as he finished cleaning the desk and finding an empty vial.

The potion needed another twenty minutes of stirring before it would turn a pale shade of lilac so Draco took that time to jot down a few notes on a piece of parchment. 

The entire day had been slightly surreal, Draco pondered as he made his notes, and if he were honest with himself it hadn’t been surreal in a bad way. There was a modicum of relief involved in not feeling he had to go out of his way to insult Potter any more, like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. The Gryffindor had proved he had a spark of wit and a rather dry sense of humour and for the first time, Draco let himself ponder over the notion of willingly, even happily, welcoming Potter into the Inner Circle. 

Draco sighed inwardly, piercing his parchment as he did a particularly vicious full stop. What would be next? Thoughts of being with Potter the same way he was with the other IC members? Draco frowned as he sat his quill down. The way things were going… it seemed almost possible. Almost. Draco ran a hand through his blond hair- he really needed a hit.

He packed his things away and took over stirring to allow Potter to do the same. The potion was now lilac, a few shades darker than it should have been but it was definitely a passing potion in spite of that. Draco ladled it into a vial before charming the cauldron clean.

“Your finished potions should be left on my desk for marking,” Severus told them, “I expect an essay, at least ten inches in length, on the uses of this potion in history handed to me at the beginning of the next lesson. You are dismissed,” Severus instructed, “Mr Malfoy, I would like a word.”

To everyone else in the class the last part sounded ominous but not to Draco who was far too used to it.

“Potter,” Draco said to the Gryffindor as he stopped at Severus’ desk.

“Malfoy,” He responded with a nod to Draco before turning to Severus, “Professor,” Severus inclined his head towards the Gryffindor as Potter filed out of the class with everyone else.

“My office, Draco,” Severus said as he got up from his desk. Draco followed the Potions Master into the office, shutting the door behind him. Draco sat down in the seat across from Severus, hands clenched into fists to stop them shaking as they rested on his thighs.

“You are requiring a hit?” Severus asked, already raking through his desk drawer.

“Yes,” Draco replied adding a ‘please’ as an after thought. Severus handed him the bag of cocaine, the parchment and the straw.

“One line, Draco,” Severus told him, his voice carrying a slight warning in it’s imperious tone. Draco nodded and poured a small amount of the white powder out onto the desk. Pushing it into a line, Draco ignored Severus watching him and put the straw to his nostril. Inhaling deeply, he snorted his way up the line. Draco sat back in his chair, wiping at his nose. He hadn’t eaten much that day and he hadn’t had a hit for almost a week so the high was almost satisfying. 

“I also wanted to discuss the Christmas holidays, although they are still a few weeks away,” Draco nodded for Severus to continue, “As you are aware, I will be joining you, your mother and your father on Christmas eve and staying until school begins again,” Draco nodded once more as he sat his straw segment on the desk, “I, perhaps against my better judgement, will bring a small amount of cocaine with me should your cravings grow uncontrollable.”

Draco frowned, “What about the few days before you get there?” Severus rolled his eyes.

“Had you given me a moment I would have explained,” He said exasperatedly, “Before you leave I will allow you one line… but I will also give you enough for another line should your cravings re-surface before I arrive.”

“Thank you, Severus,” Draco said genuinely, smiling slightly at the older man.

“There is something else.”

“Yes?” Draco asked suspiciously.

“Mr Potter and Professor Lupin will be joining us on Christmas Day,” Severus visibly steeled himself from the explosion he was expecting. Draco took a deep breath. Finally coming around to the notion of Potter joining the IC was one thing; celebrating Christmas with him was something else entirely. Within a few moments, Draco could already feel his cravings returning. Silver eyes flicked briefly to the open bag of cocaine that still sat on the desk before looking back at Severus. 

Draco realised he must have looked involuntarily pleading because Severus shook his head slightly. Draco nodded in understanding. He had to be strong, not just with the cocaine with the Potter thing as well.

“Very well,” He said eventually, “I suppose it may help sway his allegiance.”

“Indeed,” Severus said simply in response although, Draco noticed, he seemed pleased by this display of maturity. Severus got up from the desk and headed to the door and Draco followed suit. 

Before the Potions Master opened the door, Draco touched his arm softly and Severus turned around. Draco leaned upwards slightly, eyes focussing on Severus’ lips in invitation. Severus leant in, pressing his mouth to Draco’s softly. Lips moved over lips slowly, gently. Draco wasn’t sure whether the kiss was in gratitude for all Severus was doing for him or for reassurance. Or perhaps a bit of both. 

The pulled apart and their typically stoic expressions were back on their faces before Severus had even opened the door.

\- - -

**To Be Continued…?**  
 **A/N** : _Hello there my dears, I’m feeling awfully proud of Draco here. This chapter had some problems at the start, leading me to give up briefly and have some vodka. But, today after meeting with CS we re-thought this and everything and we are now back into the ‘groove’ as CS liked to put it. Which brings my nicely to my next piece of rambling: We had already informed you all that BR will be long, like really long, so we split it into parts. Part One was meant to take us all to March of sixth year and now …well now it is taking us to the New Year of sixth year. We have it all planned out and you’ll be pleased to know that the fun drama that we have been lacking will be returning as of …the next chapter in fact. Beyond Redemption: Part One now in fact has only nineteen chapters left! After which we will probably take a break of about …a week probably before beginning on Part Two. So really, you won’t really notice anything too different. Anyway this is Rora now shutting up!_  
Take care sweethearts,  
Aurora Enkeli Medeis

\- - -


	39. Chapter XXXIX

  
Author's notes: "You're beyond now- redemption, and no one's going to catch you when you fall." Harry’s back at Hogwarts. His allegiances are wavering. It’s only a matter of time…  
[Slash, self-harm, eating disorders, drug use… AU5]  


* * *

** Beyond Redemption **   
_By Sisters of Darkness_

\- - -

For this Chapter:

**Rating(s)** : R-Rated.  
 **Pairing(s)** : Barest mentions of Severus Snape/ Remus Lupin; Severus Snape/ Tobias Snape (his father).  
 **Warning(s)** : Mentions of Self-Harm; Sexual Abuse.

\- - -

**Chapter XXXIX**   
_By CS WhiteWolf_

**I** t had been a long day, and an even longer evening seemed in store for him. Though Potions class that afternoon had offered a pleasant respite to the monotony of the day, the repercussions of having had Hermione blow up her cauldron had not been so pleasant. 

He’d barely left the classroom before he was accosted by a bemused Ron alternating between feigning his concern and actually being concerned, and a fuming Hermione raging about the unfairness of it all, convinced that Malfoy had _obviously_ sabotaged her potion because she most certainly never got them wrong of her own accord, and “didn’t you see him doing it, Harry?”

Harry shrugged, wisely keeping his mouth shut. He didn’t think mentioning that her lack of concentration to her potion had been the cause of it’s exploding. If she’d been paying the amount of attention to her work as she had to Harry then she’d have known that adding the sopophorous juice before Zabini had had a chance to add the asphodel roots was bound to cause an explosion. 

Hermione glared at him as Ron hid a snigger behind his back. Harry bit the inside of his cheek in frustration, grinding his teeth down until he tasted the coppery tang of blood. He winced a little as he tongued the wound, but a feeling of calm settled over him at the small bout of harm he’d cause himself, helping him to force the barest of smiles at his friends as he reassured Hermione that he hadn’t seen Malfoy throwing anything, and that maybe it had been Zabini who had sabotaged the potion? 

Placated, Hermione began a beeline path to the library in order to study before dinner, blabbering on about some essay or another that wasn’t due for a fortnight yet but she’d still rather make a start because she wasn’t really sure she knew enough about the subject matter. Harry rolled his eyes at her- what had once been an endearing feature of hers was steadily becoming one of annoyance to him. Snape really was right when he said that nobody liked a know-it-all. 

Suppressing a more realistic smile at the thought Harry surreptitiously began to lag behind Ron and Hermione, finally managing to lose them both along the way as a gaggle of Gryffindor third years came streaming their way. He slipped behind a tapestry too old and dirtied to be made out and hid there until he was sure the coast was clear. 

Rubbing the cobwebs from his hair, Harry heaved a sigh at his own expense as he looked down the deserted hallway Ron and Hermione had no doubt continued down. He wasn’t exactly sure why they kept up the farce that they were still friends. Harry couldn’t even remember the last time the three of them had just simply ‘hung out’. There was always an aura of tension between the three of them when they were together, and though most times Ron was too dense to pick up on it, Hermione was not quite so blind, shooting him looks of calculation and concern. It set his teeth on edge. 

Shaking thoughts of the two Gryffindor’s from his head, Harry proceeded on his way, heading in the direction of the Astronomy tower where he planned to fritter away the hours until it was time for his Occlumency lesson with Snape. He slipped into the tower room and closed the door gently behind him before making his way over towards his usual window seat. 

Securing himself on the narrow ledge, Harry reached into his pockets and withdrew a pack of cigarettes and lighting up. He inhaled the tobacco and nicotine, feeling the smoke slid down his throat and coating his lungs before he dispelled it out and into the air about him, his mind and body both relaxing as he slumped against the stone frame supporting him. He gazed unseeingly out across the already darkening grounds, seeing the barest of glimmers of rain still lingering on the grass outside. 

The snow was late for the time of year, he noted absentmindedly, it was nigh on two weeks until the Christmas holidays started and there had yet to be a flake of snow to fall. Lots of rain and frost, even some sunshine here and there, but still there was no snow. 

Harry smiled around the butt of the cigarette as he took another drag; he’d never really liked the snow much. It was too pretty, too pure when left to lie- like the pale expanse of skin just begging to be scarred, bled red. When it became dirty and sullied- then it was beautiful. Then it became real. 

He chuckled to himself, shaking his head at his own musings before fishing in his pocket for another cigarette, his fingers itching for something more soothing, something sharper and cooler. They closed around the pack of cigarettes and squeezed in frustration. He lost himself in thoughts of want and need and by the third cigarette he’s lost even a sense of time as he sat and smoked upon the sill, eyes glazed and unseeing as they stared out the darkened window into the darkened night. 

\- - -

“Potter, you’re late,” Snape stood scowling behind his desk, dark eyes watching him sharply.

Harry shrugged a little, “I lost track of the time,” He answered honestly. 

“And what was so interesting that it consumed all of your attention?” 

Harry frowned at the dark haired man, confused at the sudden show of hostility. “Nothing, sir. I just got thinking and-,”

“‘Lost track of the time.’ Yes, yes, we’ve established that bit.” Snape interrupted snappishly, causing Harry’s from to deepen in confusion. 

“Sir, what’s-,” 

“Tell me, Mr Potter,” Snape interrupted once more, “In losing track of the time did you perchance manage to remember to go to dinner?” 

Harry scowled as he realised just what had Snape’s back up, “Is that what this is all about? Me having missed dinner? I though it was something important!” He swallowed heavily as Snape glared at him, “More important than missing a meal I mean.” He shifted slightly, “How do you know I just didn’t go to the kitchens instead?” 

“Because, Mr Potter, I asked the house elves, the very same house elves that are now under orders to inform Dumbledore should you dine in the kitchens. To better keep track of your eating habits you understand.” He shot Harry a disapproving look. 

“Have you any idea as to how serious your missing meals are, now? Not only are you doing damage to yourself, but also the Nutritional Potion works with the food consumed- it cannot help you if you will not help yourself, it is not a meal replacement potion.” 

“I know that!” Harry snapped angrily, “I didn’t mean to miss dinner! I just forgot. It’s not like I’m missing every other meal either.”

“That’s beside the point. You’ve already got the headmaster’s attention due to who you are, you do not want him becoming even more interested in you.”

“No, _you_ do not want him becoming even more interested in me. You just don’t want to be exposed you for what you are!”

“And what would that be, Mr Potter?” Snape asked dangerously.

Harry flinched slightly but met the man’s dark gaze, “A Death Eater. He’ll find out where your loyalties truly lie, then you’ll be in trouble.” 

“He’ll find out where your loyalties lie also.” 

Harry tensed, “I’m not a-,”

“No.” Snape seemingly agreed, “You’re not. But if he catches wind of even the slightest hint of doubt in your loyalty to the light, you too will be in trouble.” 

They stared at each other a long moment. Harry didn’t like the threat in Snape’s words, didn’t particularly care for the man’s sudden hostility towards him either, but his words about him being in trouble should Dumbledore even so much as suspect his loyalties weren’t one hundred percent with the light, well, they didn’t bode well- sending a tendril of fear through him. 

“Wand at the ready, Potter,” 

It was the only warning he got before their Occlumency lessons began. 

\- - -

Snape lifted his wand for the third time that night, his gaze disapproving as Harry picked himself from the floor, a glare on his face, suppressed tears of frustration in his eyes.

“Stop it!” Harry snapped at the Potions Master, rubbing unconsciously at his scar as his head pounded something fierce at the succession of mental attacks he’d just been forced to endure. “You said you’d teach me properly, you’re acting just like you did last year!”

The boy ran a hand through his unruly hair, “Why are you acting like this? You’ve lectured me about my eating- fair enough, I’ll be a good boy and not miss any more mealtimes again,” He began sarcastically.

“Watch yourself, Potter, I am still your professor.” 

Harry’s brow creased. “Why are you acting like this? Like the Professor I’ve known for the past five years?”

“And what, pray tell, leads you to believe this isn’t my true disposition, Mr Potter? You’ve known me since you started Hogwarts, as you say.”

Harry glared at him, “Because you’ve been different since the start of this year, and considering I haven’t yet given you my allegiance, even were this an act you wouldn’t be reverting back to your ‘old’ self yet.” He huffed, crossing his arms, “Besides, Remus wouldn’t love you of this is who you truly are.” 

He saw Snape freeze up, eyes widening slightly as he stared at him a long moment before gathering himself under control, “Don’t talk about things you don’t understand, Harry.” He said softly.

Harry almost felt smug, “I think I understand this a lot better than you do.” 

Then Snape raised his wand and attacked Harry’s mind once more, deliberately flickering through his mind for some of his worst memories. Harry mentally cringed back as the night of the Department of Mysteries came into the forefront of his mind. Not ready to deal with seeing Sirius dying before his eyes once more Harry just pushed.

Angry and upset he slammed against the invading force of Snape’s mind, crashing against it with a jolt that left both Snape and himself reeling, but he did not relent, he pushed back, forced himself against Snape’s mind, forced until Snape was out of his mind… and he kept going, kept pushing until he was inside Snape’s own head, shoving through the older man’s defences with a power he rarely displayed and almost unconsciously began raping at Snape’s mind in search of the man’s worst memories. 

The assault of thirty seven years worth of ‘worst’ memories was enough to send Harry stumbling back- mind reeling as image after disturbing image flashed before his minds eyes, a sickening flood of memories he was unable to stop the flow of until… until…

_Trapped in a dark room, eyes squeezed tightly shut- not real! Not real!- heavy breathing, another body, larger than his own small and maltreated form holding him down, pressing into him. Hot breath, foul as it ghosts his skin, shivers wracking his frame, bile building up. ‘Severus…’ a name whispered into the darkness, a whimper of a reply. ‘Please no, father…’_

With a scream of pain Harry was forced from Snape’s mind, his knees colliding roughly with the stone floor of the dungeon classroom, his head was pounding something awful as if he’d been beat over the head by a few dozen bludgers. His eyes stung with tears of pain as his fingers clenches into the stones, breathing coming in short, sharp gasps. 

He’d barely a chance to regain his senses before Snape was telling him- in a voice so deadly quiet it caused him to flinch back in fear- to leave, to leave and dare he ever mention what he’d seen to anyone… the sentence left hanging. Harry pushed shakily to his feet, his mind and stomach both lurching around at the thought of what he’d just witnessed in Snape’s head. 

He stumbled his way over towards the doorway, daring to pause long enough to look back at Snape- but the man was gone- left through the door to his office. The sound of smashing glass caused a shiver of dread to wrack itself through his thin frame. His stomach heaved a little more, forcing Harry out the classroom and in the direction of the nearest bathroom where he’d heave out the meagre contents of his stomach and retch on the taste of acidic bile that would coat his tongue and throat. 

All the while, the only thoughts he’d be able to process were the ones that chanted to him that it was his father- Snape’s father- who had… who had… the thought would haunt him through the night. 

\- - -

**To Be Continued…?**   
_A/N: Hope this chapter wasn’t as tedious to read as it was to write? I tell you me and this chapter had issues- serious issues ::pokes chapter with a big stick:: but I eventually got it done to my satisfaction and pray you feel the same way about it! Poor Severus though, we just can’t help but torture him ::hugs Sevvie::_  
Also, for those of you frequenting the Sisters of Darkness LiveJournal, you will have noticed that we’ve started up a new community IC100, dedicated to the writing of one hundred word drabbles containing at least one Inner Circle member in response to a set challenge. We encourage everyone to join and start drabbling away, even if you’re not an LJ’er we insist you become one and come drabble with us! We’ve got a couple of members already and a great start at drabbles! The opening challenge is to use a lyric from the song ‘Beyond Redemption’ by HIM. Hope to see some of you joining!  
Once again a huge thank you to all of you who are both reading and reviewing this story- the feedback greatly helps us when planning the direction of BR!  
Peace,   
CS WhiteWolf 

\- - -


	40. Chapter XL

  
Author's notes: "You're beyond now- redemption, and no one's going to catch you when you fall." Harry’s back at Hogwarts. His allegiances are wavering. It’s only a matter of time…  
[Slash, self-harm, eating disorders, drug use… AU5]  


* * *

** Beyond Redemption **   
_By Sisters of Darkness_

\- - -

For this Chapter:

**Rating(s):** R-Rated.  
 **Pairing(s):** None.  
 **Warning(s):** Adult Language; Mentions of Drug-Use/Self-Harm.

\- - -

**Chapter XL**   
_By Aurora Enkeli Medeis_

**S** omething, Draco realised, was decidedly off. He’d noticed it right away when both Potter and Severus were missing from breakfast. Now, ordinarily, Potter wasn’t at breakfast anyway but Severus was always there, like clockwork. The morning classes had passed and during break Draco made his way down to see the Potions Master only to find him missing from his classroom, his office and his personal rooms. With a frown and a shrug, Draco had wandered to his next class, feeling only the slightest niggling of concern.

Then he had reached lunchtime. Walking into the hall flanked by Crabbe and Goyle, he had instantly looked for Severus in his usual seat beside Lupin. Both seats were empty. Draco assumed Severus was with the werewolf doing Merlin only knew what. With a glance at the Gryffindor table, he had discovered Potter to be missing again. Draco had frowned in thought as he prodded at some lettuce. 

With twenty minutes left of his lunch hour, Draco had once again gone to look for Severus in his rooms but, once again, they were empty. The bell had rung for afternoon classes before the blond could go up to Lupin’s rooms in search of Severus but luckily, the afternoon involved double Potions so neither Potter nor Severus could escape the pondering blond any longer. 

He had been watching Potter’s behaviour for months now and was sure that the dark haired boy’s body language would easily give him away and give Draco some clue as to what the hell was going on. 

Slightly cheered by the thought, Draco was now sitting in his usual seat and awaiting the brunette’s arrival. But Potter didn’t show up.

Draco frowned harder as Granger took her seat, barely acknowledging Blaise as he sat beside the blond. Moments later, Severus swept in the room and Draco’s frown turned into a look of shock.

The dark-haired man looked noticeably… Draco wasn’t sure of a word. Haunted seemed appropriate. There were not-so-subtle circles beneath his eyes that gave the impression of little sleep. He was also looking slightly ill. A flicker of realisation shot across Draco’s mind but he wouldn’t allow himself to believe Severus would do that again. Not after last time.

Severus’ dark eyes focussed on Potter’s empty seat but he said nothing, which caused Draco to scowl for the hundredth time that day. He swore he would have premature wrinkles on his forehead by the end of the day.

“Today will be a note-taking class only,” Severus snapped as he sat down, “take out your parchment and quills and begin copying the notes from the board.”

There was a rustling of parchment and the scribbling of quills as everyone set to work, nobody wanting to further annoy an already unpleasant Potions Master. Draco had expected a comment to be made about Potter’s absence and was finding the lack of one, coupled with Severus’ appearance, very disconcerting. Blaise must have noticed Draco frowning at Potter’s vacant stool and leaned over.

“Potter hasn’t been in any classes all day,” Blaise whispered. Draco looked round and raised an eyebrow which Blaise knew to mean ‘and how do you know this?’. Blaise shrugged a little, “I heard a couple of Ravenclaw girls gossiping about it. Seemingly, Granger and Weasley don’t even know where he is.”

Blaise went back to writing, leaving Draco to continue with his wondering frown. 

The class flew by surprisingly quickly and before Draco knew it, he was stuffing his things back into his bag. He hung back surreptitiously at the end, knowing he could at least attempt a brief conversation with Severus as he received his nutritional potion. The rest of the pupils were long gone by the time Severus took the vial of green potion from his robes. Draco’s eyes narrowed- normally Severus kept them in his drawer along with some of his more potent potions. 

Draco’s earlier suspicions were certainly being confirmed but before he could open his mouth, Severus had cut him off.

“Instead of standing there glaring, Draco,” Severus said without looking up, “I suggest you take your potion and leave me to my marking.”

Draco was about to protest when Severus shot him a dangerous look and he thought the better of it. He snatched up his potion and walked out calmly, although he opted to slam the door behind him. 

With a transfiguration essay hanging over his head, Draco did not have much time to wonder what was going on as he wandered back to the common room. His thoughts drifted quickly to what he wanted to write, hoping that, if he could mentally write the essay before getting to the common room, he would be able to write it quickly and embark on another mission- hunting down Potter.

It seemed, however, that luck was not on his side today. 

An hour after sitting down at a table in the Slytherin common room, Draco was meagre five inches into the essay and he was well and truly stuck. Once again, the blond was forcibly reminded how much he hated Transfiguration theory. Well, technically, they were learning the ‘art’ of untransfiguration but Draco found the backwards version just as boring as doing it forwards. 

He groaned and slammed his quill down, finally giving up. Glancing at the clock in the far corner, Draco noticed it was time for dinner anyway. He packed his parchment and quills back into his bag and slung it over one shoulder. Picking up the two textbooks and stuffing them under his other arm, Draco set off for the dormitory.

Swinging the door of his room open, Draco chucked his belongings onto his bed. Crabbe and Goyle looked up from their game of Exploding Snap on one of the beds. They hastily packed the cards away and jumped off the mattress, falling into position on either side of Draco. 

The trio descended the stone staircase where they were joined by Blaise, Theodore and Pansy. Stalking their way out the common room and through the corridors, the group made their way to dinner.

Walking through the doors of the Great Hall, Draco glanced up to the head table. No Severus. He sat down in between Crabbe and Goyle with Theodore on Goyle’s other side. Pansy and Blaise sat across from them and Draco looked over Pansy’s right shoulder to the Gryffindor table. No Potter but a worried looking Granger and Weasley. He absent-mindedly put a small amount of food on his plate. Although, without Severus there to check up on him there was no need to eat anything. 

What the fuck was going on with Severus? And Potter, the magical disappearing Gryffindor? There was obviously a link between their behaviour; Draco just wasn’t sure what it was. As he stabbed viciously in a temper at a baked potato he earned himself very strange looks from his housemates. No one ever bothered him when he was in this kind of mood. Not that he was angry with anyone in particular; he was simply covering up his concern for Severus’ absence and his confusion at the lack of Potter.

There was one thing, completely unrelated, that was annoying Draco to no end. He was currently feeling a familiar itch. Not the kind of itch he normally scratched by packing his nostrils with the blessed white powder; but the kind that could only be solved by gouging his own flesh open with a blade. He hadn’t needed to cut for so long. He reasoned that the days stress and concern was causing him to need some sort of release. He scratched at his nose. Not that he couldn’t do with a hit of cocaine mind you.

He stared at his knife, as if transfixed by the gleam of metal that was catching his eyes. It wouldn’t be nearly sharp enough to do any damage, even if he were to cut himself ‘accidentally’. He realised Blaise was giving him a very odd look and he quickly stopped staring in case Blaise were reading the expression on his face or even his mind. 

Shit.

Reading minds. Occlumency. Potter’s Occlumency lessons. Bugger.

Draco dropped his cutlery and got up from the bench, providing his housemates with a hasty goodbye. He hurried from the hall. He had a Gryffindor to find. 

Draco didn’t have to give much thought as to where he would find Potter. He darted up the main staircase in the Entrance Hall and turned left. Hurrying along a corridor and up another set of stairs, doubling back on himself, climbing more stairs, along another corridor, Draco finally found himself at the bottom of the spiral stairs that lead straight to the corridor where Potter’s chosen room resided.

In his haste, Draco took the stairs two at time, robes flying behind him as he went along the corridor. He paused at the door, taking a breath before pushing it open. Instantly, he smelled the smoke and almost smiled. He closed the door behind him.

“Malfoy,” Potter said as he continued to stare out the window.

“Potter,” Draco replied, “I assume this is where you’ve been all day?”

“Why, Malfoy? Miss me?” Potter asked as he took a drag of tobacco. Draco snorted as he made his way over to the window where Potter was sitting. 

A silence descended quickly upon them, oppressive and heavy as if it knew there were questions that needed to be asked. Draco watched Potter blowing smoke out the window. His sleeve slipped down a fraction and Draco caught a glimpse of severely fresh looking wounds. He realised it was the second time in a week he’d seen the cuts on Potter’s wrist, it was almost as if the brunette was growing less careful around Draco. The blond wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not.

Potter looked twice as tired as Severus had, the circles beneath his eyes dark. His face was also looking particularly gaunt and Draco wondered what Severus would have to say when he found out Potter wasn’t eating again. Potter flicked his cigarette butt out the window and Draco felt his legs cramping up from standing in the same position for so long.

“One of these days,” Draco began, “you’re going to hit someone,” Potter snorted as he took out another cigarette.

“Probably,” He said simply as he flipped open his lighter and lit his next cigarette. 

The silence reigned over them again and as Draco was finally going to broach the subject of Severus, Potter spoke.

“Aren’t you going to ask what’s going on?” Potter said as he exhaled a line of smoke, “I’m pretty sure you’re not here just for my company,” Draco paused, taking a step nearer the windowsill.

“You had an Occlumency lesson last night…” Draco started. Potter gave a slight nod as he inhaled, resting the back of his head against the wall of the alcove.

“And?” Draco said after another moment of silence. Potter blew smoke out the open window and Draco absently watched it curl into the night sky before disappearing in a gust of wind. Potter took a long drag from the cigarette.

“I saw things…” he trailed off and blew out the smoke, “in Snape’s mind… stuff,” he said, not able to find the correct word, “stuff from his past.”

The last few words rang in Draco’s ears as Potter flicked ash out the window and took a drag. Severus’ past… ‘ _Well, shit!_ ’ was all Draco could think as he dropped himself onto the desk beside where Potter was perched.

The things that had happened in Severus’ past were never discussed. It was an unwritten rule amongst the Inner Circle- they knew what he’d been through but not one word was to ever be uttered. They all knew how Severus would react. 

Draco ran a hand through his hair before cupping both hands over his face. He could feel Potter watching him.

“What did he do then?” Draco said, his voice muffled by the heels of his hands.

“Told me to leave and… not mention what I’d seen,” Potter inhaled and blew out the smoke, “he didn’t even shout,” he added quietly.

Draco rubbed at his temples and took several breaths in an attempt to calm himself down. He was worried, beyond worried in fact, there was no telling what Severus would be thinking or doing with thoughts of his tortured past on his mind.

“I heard a lot of smashing coming from his office as I left,” Potter said almost absently as he pinged ash out the window. Draco’s head shot up and he blatantly stared at Potter who looked confused and almost afraid of the expression on the blonde’s face. 

Draco jumped off the desk and stormed over to the door, ignoring Potter asking what was going on. All he knew was that he had to get to Severus. The Potions Master may have already spent the previous night inhaling his potions and Draco wanted to find out if that really was the case and, of course, stop it happening for a second night. He wrenched the door open and didn’t even bother to close it behind himself as he rushed along the hallway.

He near ran down the spiral staircase, not missing the irony of it being him rushing to prevent Severus’ self-destructive behaviour instead of the other way around. Draco almost snorted; if he was about to become a voice of reason then life was well and truly fucked.

He jumped down the last three steps and hurried along the corridor, all thoughts of irony forgotten as he worried more and more about Severus.

\- - - 

**To Be Continued…?**  
A/N: _I wrote this chapter in such a short space of time it is surreal. If only I could do that with my other fics. Anyway, yes some drama and the scary notion of Draco being a voice of reason. Not sure how well he’d manage that to be honest but I guess you’ll all find out eventually! Oh the joys of being one of the authors!_  
Things will be getting more fun in the next chapter although there are two chapters I’m really looking forward to in the not so distant future. Because of this excitement, CS will write the next chapter for Monday as I am going away for a few days on Tuesday and I refuse to let her go a week without updating. I’m sure you all agree! I promise, if anyone requests me to beat her with my cane to motivate her, I’ll do it!  
Take care sweethearts,  
Aurora Enkeli Medeis.

\- - -


	41. Chapter XLI

  
Author's notes: "You're beyond now- redemption, and no one's going to catch you when you fall." Harry’s back at Hogwarts. His allegiances are wavering. It’s only a matter of time…  
[Slash, self-harm, eating disorders, drug use… AU5]  


* * *

** Beyond Redemption **   
_By Sisters of Darkness_

\- - -

For this Chapter:

**Rating(s)** : R-Rated.  
 **Pairing(s)** : None.  
 **Warning(s)** : Mentions of Sexual Abuse and Self-Harm (cutting).

\- - -

**Chapter XLI**   
_By CS WhiteWolf_

**H** arry rubbed his eyes tiredly, letting out a huff of breath as he threw his half-smoked cigarette out the window, slipping down from the sill. He paused briefly as his feet connected with the floor; taking a moment to regain his bearings as a day’s impromptu fasting took its toll on him with a wave of vertigo. His vision focussing once more, he dipped slowly to scoop his bag from the floor before making his way from the Astronomy Tower. 

He didn’t know what was going on- not exactly anyway, for some reason Malfoy had come to him, come to find out something he shouldn’t have been aware of, that being Harry’s absence from ‘school’ all day. Which could only mean one thing, either Malfoy had been hit over the head with a bludger and actually _cared_ about Harry and what the hell had forced him to hide out all day, or Snape had been missing all day as well. And Malfoy, with his powers of deduction- which, lets face it, any Hufflepuff could have deduced if they’d known the facts- had linked the two disappearances and correctly assumed the Occlumency lesson to have been the catalyst of it all. 

The question on Harry’s mind was that, sure, what he’d seen in Snape’s mind was no picnic- but why the panic over it? Even Snape hadn’t seemed that furious over Harry having seen the memory, not like he was when he’d invaded his pensive last year. And yet, something niggled at him- the deathly quite tone of Snape’s voice as he threatened him, a tone that had made him flinch, had made him fear the man as never he’d feared him before, the way Snape had disappeared into his own rooms- almost as if to escape Harry rather than chase him away with the hounds of hell at his heels as he had fifth year. 

Malfoy’s panic over it however seemed to clinch it for Harry as he made his way through Hogwarts’ familiar hallways and down to the one man- other than Snape, and maybe Malfoy- who could explain it to him. He was going to see Remus. Remus who knew more about Snape than Harry cared to think on… on most days at least. 

_“Please no, father…”_

Harry shivered, rubbing at his arms despite himself as a shiver crept up his spine. He’d been trying to convince himself all today- all last night as well in fact- that though he’d been upset over seeing his Professor’s memory, he didn’t actually _care_ about what had happened to the man in his past. It wasn’t as if he cared about _Snape_ … about him having gone through something Harry himself been terrified would happen to him every summer he’d returned to Privet Drive, it never had, thank Merlin, but with that sort of fear hanging over him, he’d been cowed more than his Uncle’s words had ever cowed him before. 

But the memory he’d witnessed had been so obscure- could he really be sure? The memory had been dark… but he’d still been able to make out Snape- pale-faced, eyes squeezed tightly shut and the man- _father_ \- holding him down, pressing into him… 

Harry shook the thoughts from his head, the same thoughts that had plagued him all day. Dammit he didn’t care about Snape! Didn’t care that the man had a shitty past! Didn’t… he wanted to make sure he was all right. 

Rubbing at his eyes beneath his glasses, Harry vaguely wished he had a pensive of his own in which to sieve out the memories he didn’t really want to remember in such vivid details. He paused momentarily outside the door to Remus’ quarters before raising his hand and knocking lightly upon the wood. He barely had to wait before the door was opened. 

Harry noted that Remus looked slightly haggard- more so than he usually appeared. As if he’d had no rest himself. There was a weariness in him that Harry hadn’t seen before, almost a depression about him, dare he even think it. Harry opened his mouth to apologise for calling on the man but Remus simply took his arm and steered him into the room, turning to close the door behind them and lingering just that moment too long against the wood. 

Harry frowned, reaching up to touch at the werewolf’s shoulder, “Moony?” He called softly, tugging at Remus’ shoulder till they were facing each other; he swallowed heavily, stepping closer, “Is he alright?” He asked hesitantly. Remus’ eyes flashed slightly before he gave a jerky nod of his head. Harry stepped back again before taking the initiative to head into Remus’ kitchenette. 

“Milk and two sugars, yeah?” He asked, turning to look at Remus as he put the kettle on to boil. He was graced with a worn out but genuine sort of smile that didn’t fail to relieve him just a bit as Remus nodded his agreement and headed over towards the couch. 

Well, that answered at least one of his questions- either Remus was having a seriously bad day, or he’d already been informed- no doubt by Snape himself. His heart gave a jolt. Was it really so bad though? How could something from so long ago cause all this- this- this _feeling_ from everyone? Surely Snape was over it- he’d been a child in the memory, he was a man now! It was in the past, gone, should be forgotten… shouldn’t it? 

He brought the tea tray over to the couch, setting it on the coffee table before pressing a mug into Remus’ hands. Harry blew across the top of his own drink, staring initially at the smouldering embers in the fireplace before turning to face the werewolf. Remus was watching him, his eyes a warm brown as he twitched his lips up in another semblance of a smile. 

Harry put his mug down. “You’ve spoken to Snape?” 

Remus nodded. 

“He told you what I saw?” 

“More or less.” The werewolf’s voice was slightly hoarse, Harry’s frown deepened but he did not pass comment on it. 

“Did he tell you?” 

“Not the specifics.” 

“Right.” Harry took his glasses off, wiping the lenses on the inside of his sleeve, cleaning the glass of smudges that didn’t exist- anything to occupy himself for a moment. 

Remus reached out and caught his arm lightly just above the wrist. Harry single-handedly put his glasses back on, holding his breath as the werewolf tugged his sleeve further down- exposing the fresh array of cuts and bands about his wrist- his heart thudding in his chest as the werewolf just stared at the cuts, his grip tightening fractionally before loosening once more. 

“You did these last night?” Remus’ voice was gruffer. 

“Most of them,” Remus caught his face in his other hand as Harry made to look elsewhere, the eyes were burning with that strange amber hue they took on when the werewolf’s emotions were running higher than normal. He gave a dismissive shrug, “Some of them I did today,” He swallowed over the tightness in his throat, the words hard to speak. 

He started when he felt something dragging over one of the cuts- it was Remus’ finger, tracing over the faintest hints of a double ‘S’. The lettering almost hidden beneath the array of cuts overlapping it; like a picture some child took a crayon to, scribbling away at the paper- _skin_ \- until the picture- _initials_ \- beneath were barely recognisable beneath it all. 

Remus closed his eyes as if pained, slowly bending his head to kiss the inside of Harry’s wrist and the evidence cut deep into his skin. Harry whimpered- feelings of déjà vu, thoughts of Sirius performing similar- if not the same- gesture upon him. He was quick to push such thoughts from his mind as Remus looked up at him, hand reaching out to trace and cup at Harry’s jaw. 

“I didn’t think you’d care, cub,” Remus all but whispered. 

Harry wanted to feel hurt at the comment, but he understood Remus’ meaning better than he wanted to. He shifted closer, moulding himself into Remus’ side, laying his head on the werewolf’s shoulder, curling his legs up beside him and clutching them tightly towards himself. 

“I’ve been trying not to,” He admitted, staring once more into the embers of a slowly dying fire. 

Remus wrapped his arms about the boy, pulling him even closer- settling into familiar patters. 

“Because of Sirius?” 

Harry didn’t reply, but Remus knew. Remus always seemed to know- he was rather like Dumbledore in some aspects, he mused. Only Remus would always stick with him, he was sure. He placed his trust in Remus, placed his life in the werewolf’s hands, and gave himself willingly and without doubt to Remus’ care. Remus wouldn’t betray him, wouldn’t leave him alone, he wouldn’t let anything bad happen to him. Not like with Snape. Not if he could prevent it. 

“What’s going on, Moony?” He’d relaxed his hold on his legs, his hand moving to play at the buttons on the werewolf’s robes, rather intent on the well-thumbed fastenings. 

“Nothing’s going on,” 

Harry wet his lips, brow furrowing a little more. “Why are you- and Malfoy- so upset but all this?” 

“By all what, cub?” 

Harry looked up. Remus wasn’t looking at him. 

“By Snape,” he said, watching Remus until the man turned to look back at him. “Why is everyone so worked up over it? I haven’t said what I saw, and you just told me that Snape hasn’t either- so why? Is his whole life as bad as- as…” He pursed his lips, trying to find the words to express himself, “I told Malfoy I saw ‘stuff’ from his past, he automatically knew what I meant-,” He caught the briefest flash in Remus’ eyes, “You do to,” he said, daring Remus to deny it. “Why is everyone… why are you… why is he so worked up over one memory from the past?” 

Remus closed his eyes, leaning his head back against the couch, his hand running up to the back to Harry’s neck, encouraging the boy to lay his head back down- Harry obeyed for the moment. 

“Sirius,” Remus said quietly. Harry tensed, his heart quivering in his chest. He made move to raise his head but Remus kept it held it down- gently but firmly. 

“Think how you feel whenever you think of Sirius, whenever someone mentions him, whenever something reminds you of him,” Harry swallowed past the growing lump in his throat, unsure at just where Remus was going with this, but really not liking that he kept bringing up his lover- _ex-lover_. 

“It hurts doesn’t it?” Harry made a choking sound as he nodded his head, pressing his face into the nook between Remus’ shoulder and chest. “It feels as though it happened yesterday? All the emotions, all the feelings, they are all still so real and raw to you.” Harry nodded again knowing that Remus expected some form of acknowledgement from him. “But it’s been at least six months, Harry, six months since he… passed away. It seems like such a short time for those of us that knew him, that loved him- but it isn’t, it’s a long time, half a year, Harry.” 

“Remus-,” Harry whispered, tears prickling at his eyes.

“What I’m trying to say, Harry, is that it’s the same for Severus. Everything he felt… then. _Everything_. He feels now- as he relives the memories, they are still so real to him, so raw and powerful that it is all he can think on, all that he can know for a time.” 

Harry froze in Remus’ hold. Understanding dawning on him bit by bit as the werewolf continued on in his speech. He felt the pain of grief whenever he thought of Sirius. But Snape… Snape with his memories of… of… 

Another bout of shivers started up, Remus’ hold tightened as he leaned down a little to press a kiss to Harry’s forehead. 

“You understand better, cub?” 

Harry tensed his muscles, trying to stop the minute tremors wracking his body. 

“What does he remember, Moony?” He questioned, not sure that he really wanted to know, yet his curiosity as always got the better of him. 

“That I can’t tell you, cub. You saw what you saw last night, that is all I can leave you with I’m afraid.” 

He didn’t sound particularly regretful at being unable to spill Snape’s secrets to him, but Harry really didn’t feel like pressing the matter. Not now. Not like this- with Remus obviously just as upset over it as perhaps Snape himself was. 

“You’ll look after him, won’t you, Moony?”

Remus looked down as Harry looked up, smiling fondly at him as he nodded. 

“I will, cub, don’t you worry about that.” 

Harry gave a watery smile in return, moving to snuggle up against Remus once more and would have too, had not Remus tensed up and straightened slightly, frowning as he contemplated something that Harry had yet to consider. Then came the banging at his chamber doors.

\- - -

**To Be Continued…?**  
 _A/N: I am pleased to say that despite popular opinion ::glares at certain reviewers:: Aurora did not beat me with her cane in order to get me to write this chapter of BR (of course the fact that someone else is borrowing her cane at the moment had nothing to do with this whatsoever!). With all my vitals and legs_ thankfully _intact ::glares at Rora:: I got to writing BR in my own good time (read: it’s actually because Aurora has decided to whip out her plastic sword and threaten me with it- biatch! ::draws own plastic sword::) Ahem. So I hope you all are satisfied with this rather delightful chapter and will consider leaving lots of pretty reviews, because dangit! that sword hurts! ::rubs side::_  
Peace,   
CS WhiteWolf

\- - -


	42. Chapter XLII

  
Author's notes: "You're beyond now- redemption, and no one's going to catch you when you fall." Harry’s back at Hogwarts. His allegiances are wavering. It’s only a matter of time…  
[Slash, self-harm, eating disorders, drug use… AU5]  


* * *

** Beyond Redemption **   
_By Sisters of Darkness_

\- - -

For this Chapter:

**Rating(s)** : R-Rated.  
 **Pairing(s)** : None.  
 **Warning(s)** : Adult Language; Mentions of Self-Harm; Hints at Solvent-Abuse/past Sexual Abuse; Drug-Use.

\- - -

**Chapter XLII**   
_Aurora Enkeli Medeis_

**D** raco was storming along dark corridors, thoughts of getting to Severus at the forefront of his mind, when a sudden thought stopped him. If Severus _had_ actually been partaking in some self-destructive behaviour, what could he actually do about it? Severus was not just a friend and lover; he was also Draco’s professor and elder. What the hell could he do? Slap Severus on the wrist and say “Bad Potions Master, no more sniffing for you”? Draco snorted at the absurdity of the idea. 

If Severus had been sniffing at his Potions then Draco would be pissed off but was going off at him really the best option? 

Probably not.

Draco frowned and stopped dead in his tracks. He’d need to calm down before he went to see Severus; storming irate into a room with a volatile Severus Snape was something brave people did. Draco turned right at the end of the corridor and climbed a dusty flight of stairs. No, going in angrily to confront Severus was the kind of thing best left to Gryffindors like Lupin and Potter.

The blond mused as he walked along a familiar, grime-covered hallway. Potter was probably with the werewolf right now. He could, of course, still be sitting smoking away a lung on the windowsill but Draco doubted it. After he had stormed out in such a hurry, Potter was bound to go to Lupin in search of answers. Bloody predictable Gryffindors.

The door of Draco’s ‘room’ opened with a loud creak, shutting behind him with an even louder creak. It had been awhile since Draco had ventured into this room. A voice at the back of his head pointed out that it had actually been a long time since he had needed to be here. Mostly because Severus had taken away his cocaine and nobody had angered him to the point of self-destruction.

Or maybe he was just growing up. 

He surveyed the room and he frowned. There should be bloodstains and remnants of cocaine all over the desks and the floor but there was nothing. Even the dust wasn’t as thick. Someone had cleaned it up. It had to have been Severus, as far as Draco knew, no one else was aware this room existed.

Draco found the whole thing rather disconcerting as he hopped up onto the windowsill where the actual window was still smashed from when he had put his fist through it. There was no sign that an almost complete emotional break down had happened there. He traced his fingertip teasingly along a ragged piece of glass that had been left in the frame. After how much his own feelings seemed to have shifted, Draco had almost been looking forward to a distinct reminder of the night he nearly killed himself. The absence of reminders almost solidified, in Draco’s mind, the changes he had gone through in recent months. Although, it had only been earlier that night that Draco had truly noticed how much his attitude towards Potter had changed.

Sure, he was still far from shagging the Gryffindor… or even considering him a friend, but he was something… indefinable. Draco pressed the tip of his thumb viciously into the glass, puncturing the skin and sighing slightly as blood trickled down the glass. For the briefest of moments, he found himself wondering what Potter thought of him but discarded the thought when he realised he’d never cared what anyone thought of him. Well except the other members of the Inner Circle… that Potter may soon be a part of… did that mean he _would_ soon care what Potter thought of him?

Draco scowled and pressed his thumb into the glass harder, wincing at the pain it caused. If anything it helped decrease the miniscule shake that was developing in his hands. He did not particularly want to care what Potter thought… or about Potter at all for that matter but it was becoming a scarily real prospect.

What he was wondering though, was why Potter had been so disturbed by what he had seen? Draco put his thumb in his mouth and sucked off the blood. Well obviously seeing a child being abused from that point of view would bother anybody but it was as if Potter had taken it personally.

Draco stopped sucking his thumb and nearly chose to hit himself in the forehead. Of course Potter had taken it personally, he had been through pretty much the exact same. So that was why Severus’ urge to have Potter in the IC almost seemed like a personal thing. With their fucked up childhoods there was some common ground, a kind of understanding between the two. Something he couldn’t understand, Draco thought bitterly. 

Lucius had told Draco over a year ago, just before his own initiation into the IC, what Severus had been through. Several months ago, Severus had reported what he had seen in Potter’s mind to the Dark Lord. Voldemort had mentioned it to Lucius who had naturally told Draco. The blond snorted- they sounded more like gossiping housewives than dark wizards.

This abused past wasn’t something Draco could even begin to comprehend, not with the lavish, pampered childhood he had had. Although, he realised he should not be remotely annoyed at Severus having things in common with Potter as Draco himself had a great deal more in common with the Gryffindor than he would like to admit. 

Draco checked his thumb to find that the bleeding had ceased. Feeling suitably calmer, he jumped off the windowsill and crossed the room. Wandering out into the dark corridor, Draco picked up his pace slightly- he may have calmed down his anger but his need to see Severus had not dissipated. 

He hurried along several corridors, taking a sharp left and striding down the hallway that passed the entrance of Gryffindor tower. It wasn’t until he passed the portrait of the Fat Lady that he realised he’d been in so much of a rush that he had unwittingly wandered into the lions den. At the same moment Draco swept in front of the Fat Lady’s painting, said portrait opened and Draco collided with a random, unsuspecting Gryffindor.

“Five points from Gryf…” Draco looked up from where he was brushing imaginary dust from his robes, “Weasel,” he spat, unhappy to discover it wasn’t such a random Gryffindor after all. He sneered at the lanky redhead who appeared to be holding back a smirk.

“Can’t take points from another prefect, ferret,” Weasley said. Draco bit back a growl as he roughly shoved Weasley away. He didn’t have the time for this bullshit- he had to see Severus. Draco pushed Weasley further to the side but the Gryffindor grabbed him by the shoulder.

“Just because I can’t take points from you, doesn’t mean I can’t find a professor who will,” Weasley said in a low voice that Draco assumed the redhead must have thought was threatening. Draco simply rolled his eyes before pushing Weasley away for the third time.

“Fuck off, Weasley. Go hunt for a galleon.”

Draco stormed off again, leaving a fuming Weasel behind. He reached the main staircase and hurried down it. As he crossed the marble floor of the Entrance Hall, Draco spotted a group of Hufflepuff fourth years that were clearly trying to return quickly to their common room in avoidance of punishment. With a moments thought, Draco paused and turned around.

“Five points each from Hufflepuff,” Draco said before continuing back on his way. Quickly, he descended the stairs into the dungeons. Winding his way though the dark corridors towards the Potions classroom, Draco could feel his earlier forgotten cravings rising to the surface once more. He reached the door of the classroom and clenched his hands into fists a couple of times in an attempt to quell the slight shaking he could feel spreading from his fingertips.

With three sharp knocks on the dark wood, Draco pushed open the door before closing it behind him. The class was empty, shrouded in a heavy darkness, save for the dull light of a flickering flame in Severus’ office. Draco strode across the dark classroom, swearing as he hit his hipbone off the corner of a desk.

“What do you want, Draco?” Severus snapped from inside his office. Draco frowned but straightened his face before walking into the dimly lit office.

“I’ve spoken to, Potter,” Draco said, trying to keep his tone casual. Severus’ head snapped up from his marking. The man’s dark eyes were hollow and tired, narrowing slightly as they regarded Draco.

“He didn’t tell me anything specific,” Draco continued hastily, “but I could tell what it was he saw in his Occlumency lesson,” Severus looked away quickly, making a noise that was half way between ‘tut’ and ‘pht’. Either way, Draco knew it was a noise Severus made when mentally insinuating that a person knew nothing of what they were talking about.

But Draco knew everything. His father had told him what had happened to Severus in his past and how those memories affected the normally cool and collected Potions Master. Draco stepped around the desk and tentatively put a hand on Severus’ shoulder. He felt Severus flinch almost imperceptibly under the touch and Draco was sure his heart broke a little for the man.

“Unless you actually have a purpose for coming here,” Severus snapped, subtly pulling his shoulder away from Draco’s hand, “I suggest you leave and let me continue my work in peace.”

Draco moved away, trailing his fingers along the top of the desk as he went back around to the other side. He dropped down into the chair and crossed his legs.

“Actually, I did have a purpose,” he began, looking around the office. To the untrained eye, it would seem that Draco was simply maintaining a nonchalant air. However, what he was really doing was searching for anything that may hint to Severus falling back into his old habits. As far as Draco could see, there was nothing. So either he had been worried for nothing, or this time Severus had been in coherent enough a state to clean up any and all signs of solvent abuse.

“And that purpose would be?” Severus asked, breaking Draco’s train of thought. The blond had a sneaking suspicion that Severus had done it on purpose.

“I need a hit,” Severus looked up and raised an eyebrow.

“It has only been two days since your last hit,” He commented. Draco shrugged and picked some imaginary fluff from the knee of his robes.

“It’s not a large hit that I need- just a small one. A short, single line is all I need,” Severus nodded and went to open his drawer. Draco didn’t miss the way Severus hesitated when opening the drawer. He took the things for Draco’s cocaine quickly from the drawer and sat them on the other side of the desk.

Draco leant forward to tip some cocaine out of the bag and as he did so, caught a waft of a potent scent. His eyes shot upwards and locked onto the top of Severus’ head. The Potions Master had visibly stiffened and Draco realised it- Severus knew he had been caught. Draco got up so abruptly from his chair that it fell backwards and hit the floor with a loud thud. He stalked around to the other side of the desk and reached for the drawer.

As he tried to pull the drawer open, Severus’ hand clamped over his and pushed it shut again. Draco growled quietly and wrenched the drawer open. A small plume of purple and black smoke billowed up from two open jars inside the drawer. Draco coughed after making an apparently stupid mistake of, accidentally, inhaling the fumes from the potions. He could feel the solvents going to his head, making him dizzy and nauseous. Draco slammed the drawer shut and stared down at Severus. The Potions Master met his gaze, unflinching as Draco’s eyes flashed angrily. 

It wasn’t easy, Draco realised, this keeping tabs on your temper thing. He wanted to shout and scream at Severus. Wanted to tell him not to do this to himself and to the IC. He wanted to shout that he loved him, they all loved him. But he didn’t. Even though Draco wanted to say all these things, he was sure that, were he to open his mouth, the first word out was likely to be ‘Fuck’, followed by several other profanities that would barely be distinguishable as a severe admonishment. 

Instead, Draco raised himself to full height, which was only impressive because Severus was sitting down, and sneered before moving around the desk. He stepped over the fallen chair, not bothering to pick it up. Draco swung open the door of Severus’ office and it hit off a work surface.

He dodged several desks and wrenched open the door of the classroom, slamming it shut and ignoring Severus’ almost worried call of ‘Draco!’. 

The blond didn’t even think to stop. Over the course of the day he’d had two people to find- a Potions Master and a Gryffindor, now he had a werewolf to hunt down.

Taking the stairs into the Entrance Hall two at a time, Draco reached the top and hurried over the marble floor, nearly slipping on a patch of water that had been dragged in. He climbed the main staircase and turned right. After storming his way along several corridors and up another flight of stairs, Draco walked along another corridor, briefly looking out the window at the light December snow that was falling.

He stopped abruptly when he realised that he was at the correct door. Draco pressed his palm flat against the wall for a moment as he regained his breath. His hands were beginning to shake- he hadn’t lied when he’d told Severus he needed a hit and instead of snorting said hit, Draco had sniffed out the potions and stormed out. He took a deep breath and balled his right hand into a fist. 

Draco banged several times on the door, relishing in the fleeting pain it caused.

\- - -

**To Be Continued…?**   
_A/N: Yes so that was who has come a knocking at Remus’ door. I hope you all enjoyed this chapter, I have! In fact, while writing, I have grown steadily drunker but it seems my writing and Draco channelling abilities haven’t wavered too much! Well I hope not anyway. CS’ next chapter will be out …as soon as I can make her because I’m fucking dying for it! Oh the joys of knowing what’s in the chapter plan! Thanks as always for the reviews, my lovely dears. More drama and …action coming up in the next few chapters. I have really resisted the fucking urge to say fuck after every fucking thing in this author note. Although I don’t know fucking why!_  
Take (fucking) care sweethearts,  
Aurora Enkeli Medeis. 

\- - -


	43. Chapter XLIII

  
Author's notes: "You're beyond now- redemption, and no one's going to catch you when you fall." Harry’s back at Hogwarts. His allegiances are wavering. It’s only a matter of time…  
[Slash, self-harm, eating disorders, drug use… AU5]  


* * *

** Beyond Redemption **   
_By Sisters of Darkness_

\- - -

For this Chapter:

**Rating(s)** : NC-17.  
 **Pairing(s)** : Remus Lupin/Severus Snape. Mentions of Tobias Snape(Father)/Severus Snape(Son).  
 **Warning(s)** : Solvent Abuse; Trichotillomania; Self-Harm (Scratching); Dubious Consent; Mentions of Sexual Abuse (Rape).

\- - -

**Chapter XLIII**   
_By CS WhiteWolf_

**R** emus turned his head to the door the second before the banging of a knock sounded through his chambers. He extracted himself from Harry, noting the boy’s frown, and made his way towards the door. Opening it he found himself mildly surprised to see Draco Malfoy standing there, his face pale and an oddly pleading look in his eyes. 

“Draco?” He’d questioned, allowing the boy to step into the room. He saw Harry standing up with his peripheral vision. 

“Professor,” Draco breathed, his tone sounding oddly relieved if strangely pleading at the same time. Remus opened his mouth to ask what had brought the young Slytherin to his rooms of all places when Draco launched straight into an explanation, proceeding to elucidate himself why he’d come to Remus for help. 

“It’s Severus,” Draco began, “he’s doing it again, he’s-,” He shot a glance in Harry’s direction before swinging his gaze back up to Remus’, “He’s doing his potions again,” He said in a lower voice, as if hoping the Gryffindor wouldn’t hear or perhaps understand his words. “I don’t know how long he’s been at it, but I’m… I think… I don’t want what happened last time to happen this time.” He took a deep breath, “He won’t listen to me, I know he won’t- I’d just shout at him and we’d get nowhere, but I know he’ll listen to you. He just has to. You will do something won’t you? Won’t you, Professor?” 

Remus placed a hand on his shoulder, stilling the boy’s words. His eyes taking on a hooded look as he processed the blonde’s words. He knew what had happened between the Potions Master and Harry more or less in regards to their Occlumency lesson from the night before, Remus had flooed up to his rooms in the early hours of the morning reeking of potions and silently begging for a comfort he was sure only Remus could give him. 

He’d held the dark-haired man through the rest of the night as silent tremors wracked through his body, though no tears were shed, Remus was sure it took all the man’s strength not to break down into sobs. The effect his memories of the past had on him was truly astounding to witness. But Remus had held him until he’d drifted off into troubled sleep and disturbing dreams, had cradled him when nightmares struck and soothed him back to sleep. He’d later woken him, showered and dressed him and prepared him for a day he was not prepared to face. 

He’d gone back to see Severus before dinner and been assured that the other man was alright and that he was quite able to manage himself, thank you very much. He’d been assured by the return of the snark in Severus voice, and though reluctant, had left him to his own devices after just after the end of the dinner hour. And now, now one obviously distraught Draco Malfoy was telling him that Severus had hit the potions again and that he was afraid the man would do as he had done the last time he’d had a blast from the past. 

Remus could admit that it was a thought he’d feared the moment Severus had stumbled rather ungracefully from his fireplace at some ungodly hour of early morning. He’d never made Severus swear to him, never made the man promise never to do it again, but he’d thought they had an understanding, thought that Severus understood the fear his actions provoked in each member of the Inner Circle, understood the fear he inflicted upon Remus. Remus who was there at hand, who was willing to be with Severus every hour of every day should the other man so need him. He understood the need for non-human help, but to drive himself back to the very thing that had nearly killed him- well that hurt, and in feeling hurt, he too felt both anger and pain and the need for a confrontation. 

He turned his gaze back to Draco, taking the boy’s shaking hands into his own, his eyes boring into Draco’s own. 

“You’ll be alright?” And he wasn’t talking about the Severus-issue. The blond gave a jerky nod in affirmation, his palms sweaty in the werewolf’s grasp, but otherwise he was as composed as he could be in such circumstances. Remus nodded as well before releasing his hands and turning to face Harry who gave him a watery sort of smile, nodding his head also. He understood a little, at least enough for him to know that Remus had to leave him for now. 

And then Remus was out the door with nary another thought towards the two boy’s- enemies struggling to become allies, and maybe one day, friends. 

\- - -

Severus rammed his fists into his eye sockets, trying to drive out the memories that replayed themselves over and over through his mind. The sickening smells of noxious potions hung heavy in his rooms as he allowed himself to let go in the only way he knew how- that of abusing himself worse than the memories could, and in doing so driving them from the forefront of his mind to once more linger in the shadowy depths of his consciousness whereupon he could attempt to live his life in ignorance of his past. 

Spots of colour burst behind his eyelids, as he rubbed frantically at the itch that had taken over, salty liquid being forced from eyes at the continued rubbing, eyelashes moving together with a chafing sound that never quite managed to out sound the squelching his actions brought about. It was only the tired ache of pain in his eyes that cause him to eventually wrench his hands from their continued and frenzied rubbing, forcing himself to otherwise occupy them by pulling one of the opened potions bottles closer towards him.

His nostrils already burned with the continuous abuse of solvents he’d been sniffing since Lupin had left him shortly after the dinner hour had concluded. Though the two potions Draco had been confronted with in his office were of the time-release variety and decidedly milder than the ones he was used to using, Severus was in no mood now to pace himself any longer this evening. 

The second the blond boy had left his rooms Severus had slumped back into his chair- taking the barest of moments to flick his eyes from the doorway to the bag of coke- before he’d banished the line of unused cocaine, locked the bag in his drawer and retreated into the safety of his rooms whereupon he’d immediately set about retrieving the most toxic and foulest smelling potion he had at hand that would do the job he needed it to do. 

He felt decidedly drunk on the fumes he was inhaling; the long period between this and the last time he’d continuously sniffed had given his body a chance to heal itself and his tolerance level to lower. His vision swam slightly as a wave of dizziness threatened to overwhelm him, but the decided blurring to his vision he knew was down to his abuse of the soft flesh of his eyes. 

Severus breathed heavily, closing his eyes to the room as he tipped the bottle towards his nose once more, breathing deeply the fumes that gave him the feeling of being high, that helped him to forget once again the things he didn’t want to remember, the things he couldn’t remember on most days until… until… until something happened to trigger a memory, until something broke through the defensive measures both he, himself and his mother had created to ensure he could survive, so he would survive. 

He snorted at the thought, wincing at the pain that shot through his nose at the gesture. He slammed the bottle onto his desk, a little harder than necessary perhaps, he distractedly mused as he snaked his hand under the sleeve of his robes, feeling the thick and jagged scar that ran its way up his arm, running from the very tip of his wrist to midpoint up his forearm. 

It was an ugly and grotesque reminder of his inability to cope with the traumas life had thrown him. Where he could be aloof and distant on all manner of things unconnected to his past, the moment he was reminded of what he’d been put through as a child however and he resorted to self-destructive behaviour- anything that could prevent himself from reliving the nightmares of his youth. 

It had been the first and only time he’d purposefully tried to end his life. He couldn’t even remember what it was he’d remembered that had led to him reaching for Lucius’ letter opener to slit his wrists- the proper way. What he did remember however was the sheer look of terror that overrode every carefully constricted mask that the elder Malfoy ever wore when he’d found Severus with bare minutes to spare. 

He didn’t remember much after that, for his world had grown dark, Lucius’ cry of shock resounding through his head to mingle with his own screams as he was plunged into nightmares, a hell of reliving a past he’d sought to escape, only to wake up in sweat-soaked bedclothes, sobbing his heart out to a patiently listening Narcissa who held him tightly and cooed soothingly to him whilst, unbeknown to him at the time, Lucius and Voldemort listened on with growing horror and rage. 

Severus had later promised them all that he’d never attempt anything of the likes again. Not intentionally at least. He’d not let them heal the scars to nothingness either, needing the reminder for himself. He’d kept his promise as well, kept it until the day Draco- who had been informed of Severus’ past sometime around his initiation- had sought to bring it up and use it against him. 

He didn’t suppose abusing his solvents with the memories of his own abuse so fresh in the forefront of his mind was an entirely smart thing to do. Not after what had happened last time. Not after what had almost happened last night had he not forced himself to seek Remus’ comfort. 

He removed his hand from his robes to cradle his head, his body heavy with depression as he fleetingly ran a hand over his face, touching at his tender eyes, and then carding up and into his hair. Grabbing at the thin locks and just holding. A slight tug, the edges of his nails biting into his sculpt, the satisfying feeling of hair _pinging_ out of place. Nails digging harder as he leaned forward and inhaled another dose of solvents. An ache in his throat not so much a warning as a need, a strange and disturbing want, an urge to take that bottle, that vial, to tip its contents- poisonous, deadly- down his throat. 

But he didn’t. And he wouldn’t. Not for any self-righteous or sacrificing notions, but because- and with a foreboding sense of déjà vu- Severus felt a hand enclose about his wrist, jerking it away from his head- stands of hair coming away in his fingers, blood under his nails. 

He looked up with a jumping jerk of shock, twisting his wrist in the grasp as his eyes focussed on the slightly blurred figure before him. But he didn’t need his eyes to know who stood there before him, not really. He knew there was only one man who’d ever dared interrupt him when he was intent on this method of self-destruction. Even Lucius knew to leave him alone when he was with his potions. 

“Lupin,” He tried to speak the name with anger, perhaps resentment, but he choked on the name, his dry tongue stumbling heavily over the syllables. 

The hand about his wrist tightened to the point of being painful before he was tugged rather unceremoniously from his chair- it over toppled with the momentum and Severus too would have fallen had not the werewolf caught him at the last moment, hefting his light weight easily until he was once again upon his feet. And though unsteady, Severus felt a genuine anger and resentment build up inside him as he shoved at the werewolf with his free hand. 

“What the hell is wrong with you, Lupin?” Severus hissed, blinking away the spots of colour that were dancing about his vision. 

“You said,” The werewolf began, a growl to his usually calm and placid voice, “Last night, when you came to me, seeking comfort, seeking my help, because you were afraid you’d do it again, that you were afraid that if you’d stayed a second longer in your rooms, sniffing your _goddamed_ potions, that you’d have done it again, that you’d have gone too far and that there wouldn’t be a reason to floo anywhere and be saved. You told me that last night.” 

Remus’ grip about Severus’ arm was near brutal, the feeling being lost to the tips of his fingers- yet he barely noticed, swallowing thickly as he focussed on the only thing he could concentrate on- those brilliant amber eyes that shone with anger and madness and the wolf raging within. 

“Lupin…” Severus tried to speak, though he knew not what to say. Knew not whether to defend himself and his actions, to condemn the werewolf or to apologise, to seek redemption for his weakness. 

Remus made a disgusted sound in the back of his throat, abruptly releasing both Severus’ wrist and the hold he had about his waist. Severus stumbled backwards at the sudden lack of support- falling back into the corner created by the stone wall of his dungeon quarters and the thick wood of the bookshelf situated behind his desk. 

Severus slumped into the corner, head bowing in an uncharacteristic display as he moved his hands to cup his face, fingers pressing timidly to his eyes, to hide his reddened nose, to touch at his dry and cracking lips. There was a heavy silence around them, the very air pregnant with emotion and expectation, waiting for something to happen… anything… 

“Draco?” 

Remus jerked as Severus broke the silence. He nodded his head in understanding before answering with an abrupt ‘yes’. Yes it was Draco who came to fetch me. Came to tell me what you were doing. What he feared you would do. Yes, Draco cares about you, cares enough to want you to live, cares enough to come running to a man he still in part resents if only to help you. 

Severus flinched as if having heard Remus’ inner ranting, words that beat against the backs of his teeth, trying to force their way out into the air- to be born and spoken and never taken back. Not that he would have wanted to had he said them. 

“What happened last night,” Severus began, voice thick, “It was… a mistake, a show of weakness. It won’t happen again,” He wondered fleetingly as to whom he was trying to convince. 

“Can you promise me that?” Remus’ replied harshly, “Can you convince yourself that?” Severus seemed to slump further into the stones. 

“I know the Inner Circle has a- shall we say, policy?” Remus began almost conversationally, “One that encourages no interference on whatever issues its members are going though?” Severus gave no indication of listening. Remus continued regardless, “I understand why no one has tried to stop you before, why there was never so strong an inclination to have you cease in these activities. But when your issues lead you to near-suicide then action must be taken. Draco had his coke taken away, Severus.”

Severus just shook his head. Knowing where Remus was going with this, but nowhere near inclined to agree with him. Would Remus try to take his potions away? Try to stop Hogwarts’ Potions Master from playing with his potions? Stop him from inhaling the fumes when teaching a class full of brewing students? The very thought was ludicrous, was laughable, was enough to encourage the building of hysteria that gave way to choked chuckles that were not quite expressions of amusement as a suppressing of panic. 

The hand that wrapped about his wrist for the second time that night was by far gentler than it had been the first time round. Calloused fingers rubbing soothingly at the hurt they’d caused in the ring of red fingers that were sure to bruise. 

Severus looked up, startled at the gesture- moving to tug his arm away instinctively. His chuckles cutting themselves off as he stared up into Remus’ face. 

“You don’t understand.” He whispered. 

“Then make me, Severus, help me understand. Help me help you.”

Severus shook his head, tugging his wrist from Remus’ grasp, but the werewolf was not to be deterred, raising the same hand to touch at his cheeks, to cup his face and trace a cheekbone with his thumb. Despite himself, Severus found himself leaning into the touch, eyes flickering closed, a short sigh of breath, of slight relief, being expelled from parted lips. Lips that soon found themselves in contact with other lips. 

He made a surprised sound, eyes flying open at the almost chaste kiss. Or would be chaste, if not for the desperation he’d felt behind it. His tongue flickered out, wetting his lips a little, his vision still slightly blurred even as he stared intently into the werewolf’s eyes. A flush of heat rushed through his body, skin burning at the intensity of the stare Remus was giving him, claiming him with. 

His head swam with a heady mix of potions and sudden desire, of want and need and a mouth hot and heavy against his own, claiming his own, tongue thrusting in and out of his own with almost brutal passion that he could not help but accept, but encourage with little whimpers and moans. Remus’ hand moving round to the back of his head, pulling him closer, tilting his head for a better angle, kissing him until he could think on nothing else. Another hand touched at his neck, warm fingers against feverish skin, trailing down, over clothing, tracing from collar bone to black buttons- nimble fingers making short work of the fastenings. 

And then that hand was inside his robes, touching at his desire-warmed skin, that hot mouth leaving his to trail searing kisses down his throat, to suckle and bite. Little puffs and pants of air as he grabbed at the werewolf, needing something to hold onto, to ground himself as small whimpers tore themselves free from his throat. Mind a blur of lust and… and something else… something that told him to pull away, that told him he wasn’t supposed to be feeling so good. 

He moaned, arching into Remus’ mouth as the other man pushed his robes open- dishevelled, debauched- robes pooling in the crooks of his arms, buttons parted down to his navel, to the line of dark hair- treasure trail to a most interested prize. 

Severus scrabbled for a better purchase, one arm wrapping about Remus’ shoulders, the other holding at the werewolf’s head, urging, tugging, encouraging, restraining. 

“Lupin… Rem-don’t… please,” His words incoherent, meaning lost to the thrumming of desire as it overwhelmed him, overtook him, allowed him to feel- to understand- nothing more than the intense pleasures he was being assaulted with. Lucidity surfaced briefly only when he felt the cool air of the dungeons touching at his suddenly naked skin- the press of fresh sheets crinkling beneath him as he was lowered to his bed, unable to recall moving to the bedroom through the haze in his mind. 

And though he arched and he moaned, he too pleaded, pleaded for Remus to touch him, to take him, to never stop making him feel these delicious feelings, to stop, to leave him, to no make him feel such pleasures- not now, not now. But he put up no fight, unable to deduce himself what he wanted as he claimed the werewolf’s lips with his own, arched his body into Remus’, parted his legs, spread his thighs, closed his eyes to the world around him. 

Hands cupped at his face, a voice whispering into his ear, “Open your eyes, Severus,” And he did. And Remus took him. And they watched each other- seeing the other’s desires, knowing the affect the pleasures of the flesh had on each of them. Neither lasted much longer, finding completion soon after their joining- grasping tightly at each other, lips pressed tightly in a searing kiss as the lights of orgasm bursting behind their eyelids, carrying them on waves of passion.

Severus rolled to curled up against Remus as the werewolf moved off him, clutching at the other man almost desperately as if afraid he’d leave. Strong arms wrapped about him, cradling him as he buried his face into the werewolf’s neck, his breathing harsh and hitching against the silence of the room. Remus clenched his eyes closed- heart constricting painfully in his chest as he held his lover close. 

Remus slipped a leg over Severus’, pulling the other man closer still, one hand rubbing soothing circles about his lower back, the other carding through his long hair- fingers sliding fairly easily through the lank locks. He turned his face slightly, moving to place a desperate and lingering kiss to Severus’ temple.

It was as he shifted against Severus however, ending the kiss, that he felt the first telltale signs of the man’s grief in the moisture steadily cooling against his warmed skin. 

“Severus?” Remus moved his upper body away slightly in order to get a look at the dark-haired man. Severus clutched frantically at his shoulders, the merest of whimpers breaking the still air as he pushed his face against the curve of Remus’ neck, mouth opening to latch- tongue and teeth- to the salted skin, a primitive claim, a plea that the werewolf never let him go. 

Remus ached, feeling the barest of tremors running through Severus’ thin frame. He held him tightly for a few moments longer before once more attempting to pull away. Severus let him this time, though he did turn his face away, trying to withdraw himself entirely from Remus’ embrace but Remus rolled with him, pinning Severus under his weight once more, hands reaching up to cup the dark-haired man’s face, gently forcing Severus to meet his gaze- foreheads pressing together as their eyes met: pain and fear and shame warring against pain and fear and guilt. 

“Severus,” Remus’ voice was hoarse. Severus closed his eyes, taking a deep breath through his reddened nostrils before opening them once more. Unshed tears still swam across the obsidian depths whilst the tracks he’d shed dried in trails down his cheeks and across his temples. Remus brushed at the moistened traces, thumbs running across high cheekbones. 

Severus reached up and caught his wrists, stilling his movements. Remus watched the bob of his Adams apple as he swallowed heavily, his chest heaving slightly beneath his own. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” Remus questioned softly. Severus’ eyes widened slightly, lips thinning to a tight line as he shook his head negatively. Remus eased himself up and off the slender man, turning onto his side so as to still face Severus. He touched gently at Severus’ cheek, causing the dark-haired man to look at him. 

“You’ll need to talk about it sometime.” Severus turned his face away again, a shiver stealing up his body. Remus shifted closer, pressing himself against Severus, hand reaching out to brush a stand of hair from his lover’s face. “It’s eating you up inside, Severus. One day it will overwhelm you and… and no one will be around to save you.” He licked at dry lips with a dry tongue, his voice growing more hoarse with the emotion of his words. 

Severus spared him the briefest of glances before twisting onto his side, facing away from the werewolf, before tugging at the neglected sheets, pulling them up to cover his naked body. Remus fell onto his back with a suppressed sigh, one hand tucked under his head, the other upon his chest as he stared unseeingly at the canopy above him. He turned his head a little, eyeing the pale curve of Severus back as the other man seemed content to ignore him. He reached out and touched at the slight protruding of spine, but Severus flinched away from him at first before pressing back into the hand. 

“I don’t know where to begin,” Severus’ voice was so soft that Remus thought he’d imagined it. He shifted, the sheets crinkling a little as he moved. Severus looked round at the sound of his bedside drawer opening and closing. He blinked at the item Remus pulled out, not quite sure whether to smile or glare as the brown bear was pressed into his arms, Remus shimmying closer towards him and spooning up behind him, arms wrapping about his torso and helping him to hug the bear. 

Severus found he had to swallow past the growing lump in his throat as Remus entwined their fingers, a chaste kiss pressed to the back oh his neck as he settled down to wait, in patience, for however long it would take for Severus to gather the courage he needed in order to confess the details of a past he’d not spoken of before. Not even when he’d woken in post-suicidal panic and fear and spilled his secrets whilst heavily drugged and only half-awake. 

“You know it was my father,” He whispered, a shuddering breath expelling from his lips, arms constricting in their grasp around the bear, hand squeezing that little bit tighter around Remus’ own as he gathered his courage. Then he began to speak.

\- - -

**To Be Continued…?**   
_According to Aurora, this is my ‘best chapter yet’, I got a warm feeling inside when she said that because I do rather adore this one myself, so please, please let us know what you guys thought of it, okay? We want lots of reviews and we’ll beg for them if we have to! :D_  
I was speaking with Aurora about introducing a BR side story (with lots of delicious Snupin slashyness) which would show how Remus helps Severus deal with his past. It would most probably also contain the ‘truth’ about Severus’ past and what really happened to him. We’re considering this because it’s unlikely the ‘full story’ will ever be told in BR as the current plan goes. Would anyone be interested in reading this if I go ahead with it? Please let us know either in a comment or at SD_Beyond_Redemption@Yahoo.co.uk .  
Also, on our LJ at the moment we have [a meme](http://www.livejournal.com/users/br_inner_circle/11055.html) up where you can pose a question to any of the Beyond Redemption characters and have them answer it for you. You don’t even need a LiveJournal to post a question, so if there is anything you’re dying to know, [drop us a line](http://www.livejournal.com/users/br_inner_circle/11055.html) and we’ll let the BR boys out of their cages to answer your queries!  
Thanks to everyone who has been reviewing BR! We appreciate the comments ever so much and pray you keep it up! And to those of you anonymous readers (over 60per chapter!) mind leaving us a comment once in a while? We’re review whores, we want your feedback!  
Peace,   
CS WhiteWolf 

\- - -


	44. Chapter XLIV

  
Author's notes: "You're beyond now- redemption, and no one's going to catch you when you fall." Harry’s back at Hogwarts. His allegiances are wavering. It’s only a matter of time…  
[Slash, self-harm, eating disorders, drug use… AU5]  


* * *

** Beyond Redemption **   
_By Sisters of Darkness_

\- - -

For this Chapter:

**Rating(s)** : R-Rated.  
 **Pairing(s)** : None.  
 **Warning(s)** : Adult Language; Mentions of Solvent Abuse/Drug Use/Self-Harm.

\- - -

**Chapter XLIV**   
_Aurora Enkeli Medeis_

**D** raco stared at the open doorway that Lupin had just disappeared through. He was worried. Worried about what the werewolf might find when he got to Severus’ office. Worried that Lupin wouldn’t be able to help as much as Draco thought he would. Either way, they would soon know. And now, he was alone with Potter and a rampant cocaine craving. He scratched absently at his left wrist. He needed something, anything, just to take the edge off.

“Potter?” he said abruptly, turning around to face a startled Gryffindor, “where does Lupin keep his Firewhisky?” Potter frowned and Draco wondered how someone who was supposedly so powerful and brilliant could be so very dense.

“Firewhisky?” Potter asked, a bemused look on his face.

“Yes, Potter,” Draco said exasperatedly, “Firewhisky- the kind with alcohol in it.”

Potter blinked a couple of times, watching Draco sit himself down in the worn armchair beside the fire. A few moments later, Potter shook himself out of his stupor and got up from the couch, disappearing into the small kitchenette. Draco twisted his hands into his robes, clenching his fingers around the fabric. He needed cocaine; his entire body was itching for it. After every thing that had transpired in the last few hours, Draco would be lucky if six glasses of Firewhisky would make him feel any better.

He heard cupboards opening and closing as Potter searched in the kitchen. Draco heard two glasses being sat on a worktop and filled with a liquid before a cupboard was opened and closed again. The Gryffindor came out of the kitchen, two glasses in his hands. He handed one to Draco who took it without a word, staring at the amber liquid as Potter sat back down on the couch.

Draco put the glass to his lips and downed the entire contents, barely screwing his face up as his tongue and the back of his throat burned. He gripped the almost empty glass, tilting it from side to side and watching a single bead of whisky rolling around the bottom. The glass was shaking in his hands, sticking slightly to his palm through sweat.

“Malfoy?” Draco ignored the voice and continued staring into his glass, “Malfoy?” Potter asked more insistently. Draco looked up to find Potter’s drink untouched and his green eyes staring at the Slytherin.

“What?” He snapped, internally wincing at his own tone of voice.

“Nothing, I was just wondering if you were okay,” Potter said, taking a long mouthful of his whisky. Draco sighed.

“I’m fine, Potter. I don’t see why you would think otherwise,” Draco replied, trying in the patented Malfoy way to hide everything that he was feeling and thinking. Potter shrugged noncommittally but his eyes flicked to Draco’s hands that were shaking no matter how hard he gripped his glass. Draco scowled and sat the glass down harshly on the coffee table. Potter downed the last of his whisky.

“More?” Potter asked, already standing up from the couch. Draco nodded and picked up his glass, handing it to Potter.

Draco leant back in the chair, head falling onto the back as he closed his eyes. He couldn’t feel anything from that first glass, maybe a second would help. There was still the niggling in his mind, the imaginary itching in his nose that was telling him he needed drugs. He just wanted it to stop. He opened his eyes to see Potter waving a refilled glass in front of his face.

“Thanks,” Draco said as he took it. Potter gave him an odd look as he went back onto the couch.

“You’re welcome,” Potter replied, taking a sip of the amber liquid. Their eyes met, seemingly as if they were trying to read each others minds for a mere moment before Draco turned his attentions onto his whisky. Draco took a long mouthful of the drink and they lapsed into silence.

The quiet was heavy around them, much like it had been earlier that evening in the Astronomy Tower. Draco knew it was Potter who would speak first. It would have to be.

“Well?” Draco almost smiled.

“Well what, Potter?” Draco asked back. He took a mouthful of whisky, closing his eyes as the warmth trickled down his throat. 

“Isn’t someone going to tell me what’s going on?” Potter asked. Draco snorted.

“And I assume by ‘someone’ you mean me?” He countered. He watched the corners of Potter’s mouth quirk slightly.

“You assume correctly,” Potter said before taking a mouthful of whisky. Draco sighed.

“It’s not my place to say,” Draco said eventually. Potter’s brows furrowed in a small frown.

“But if I join the Inner Circle I’m going to want to know everything,” Potter said. 

“No one knows everything, even in the IC,” Draco said with a snort.

“Yes but what you can tell me will be a lot more than I already know,” Draco opened his mouth to tell Potter that that wouldn’t be hard but the Gryffindor held his hand up, “don’t say a word.”

“I can only tell you if you join, Potter,” Draco said, the smirk slipping from his face, “but that is a very big if.”

He looked over at Potter who was staring pensively into his glass. Draco’s eyes went wide.

“Or perhaps it’s not as big an ‘if’ as I first thought?” He asked, absently swirling the amber liquid in his glass. Potter shrugged, taking a sip of whisky. “Potter?” Draco asked and the Gryffindor looked up. Draco took a deep breath, “Are you planning on joining us?”

Potter stared blankly into his glass and there was nothing Draco could do but watch him. He looked for a sign, any kind of sign, of what was going through Potter’s head but he couldn’t tell. All he knew was that the next words out of Potter’s mouth would change everything, for better or for worse. Draco just wasn’t sure which option was the better one. If Potter joined, he knew he wasn’t going to lose his father, or even Severus. If anything, he reasoned, he would be technically gaining a new person in his life. The thought niggled at Draco as he waited for a response. Potter sighed.

“Yeah… yeah I think I am.” 

Draco released a breath he wasn’t aware of holding, gulping down the last of his Firewhisky. There was a part of him, Draco realised, that was relieved to hear those words. It occurred to him, with mild horror, that he would have been disappointed had Potter said no. 

“Will you now tell me what the hell has been going on tonight?” Potter asked after a few moments. Draco bit the inside of his cheek. Sure, Potter looked to be joining the IC but that still didn’t give Draco the right to divulge everyone else’s secrets.

“I still don’t think it’s my place to tell you,” Draco said, getting up from the armchair and making his own way into the kitchen. He caught sight of Potter gaping at him.

“But,” Potter said as he followed Draco, “you said if I joined, you would be able to tell me.”

Draco spied the bottle of Firewhisky and picked it up. He ran his fingers over the label. It was a surprisingly good vintage. He looked up at Potter who was glaring at him expectantly.

“Technically, you haven’t joined yet,” Draco said as he side stepped the Gryffindor and went back to his chair. He unscrewed the bottle top and poured some into his glass.

“I’m going to find out one way or another,” Potter said as he reached across for the bottle, “so wouldn’t you be as well telling me now and getting it over with?” Potter poured a large quantity of the alcohol into his glass.

“I still don’t think it’s my place to reveal things about the others,” Draco said, taking a mouthful of whisky, “they aren’t my problems to reveal.”

“So you admit that there are problems?” Potter asked and Draco snorted.

“I think that is blatantly obvious, Potter,” Draco replied. Potter looked at him thoughtfully over the rim of his glass.

“Fine,” Potter said, knocking back the entire glass and sitting it down, “since you have, in the last hour, developed morals and can’t ‘reveal’ anything about anyone else, why don’t you tell me what the hell is going on with you half the time?”

Draco, who was mildly impressed by Potter’s show of wit, sipped on his whisky. This wasn’t a direction he had particularly wanted to go in- to talk about his ‘issues’ was to think about them and to think about them, made them a thousand times worse. The shaking of his hands reminded him of that. He decided on his tried and tested solution of evading the question.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Potter,” He said, taking a long mouthful of whisky and staring down into the fireplace.

“Don’t pull that shit on me, Malfoy,” Potter replied, “I know you cut but there’s something more than that… something else.”

“And what, pray tell, has lead you to that assumption?” Draco asked, inwardly amused at how much like his father he suddenly sounded.

“The shaking of your hands for a start, it’s like you’re… itching for something,” Potter remarked. Draco scowled down at the flames. Potter was right on the money and Draco wasn’t happy about that at all. He didn’t want reminded of his cravings, not now. 

“Very perceptive, Potter,” Draco’s tone was sarcastic but the tight grip he had on his glass belied his true feelings. He heard Potter pouring more whisky into a glass, vaguely wondering how the evening would end if they were both to end up drunk.

“Will you tell me what is causing it?” Potter asked. 

“You already guessed- itching,” Draco said. It was true, technically.

“Itching to do what?” Draco looked round from the fire and smirked.

“Scratch,” he replied. Potter ran a hand through his hair and sighed.

“Do you have to be so fucking awkward?” Potter asked. Draco assumed it was a rhetorical question but answered anyway.

“I thought with your clearly wonderful powers of perception you would have already known the answer to that.”

Potter shook his head but Draco could see the smallest of smiles flit briefly across his face. Draco downed the last of his whisky and sat the glass down. Finally, the alcohol was having its effect, the craving for cocaine now reduced to a dull throb at the back of his mind. Either that or he was developing a migraine from the sustained exposure to Potter.

“Is telling me such a difficult thing to consider?” Potter asked. Draco looked thoughtfully at Potter for a moment.

“Well, put it this way- would you be happy to sit and discuss your ‘issues’ with me?” Draco asked. Potter looked away, staring down at the grains in the wood of the coffee table. “No, I thought not.”

“You already know my ‘issues’,” Potter replied quietly. Draco shook his head.

“I know you cut and you smoke and I know that you don’t eat, but I don’t know why,” Draco said.

“Why do you cut?” Potter asked.

Draco frowned. He did it for release, to feel the pain and see the blood. He did it because it reminded him, even in the worst of times, that he was alive. It reminded him that he could feel. Not that he was planning on saying that. A heart to heart about self-harm with Potter was too strange a thing to comprehend.

“Why don’t you eat?” Draco countered.

“I think you do it just to feel that surge of pain,” Potter mused. Shit, Draco thought, bang on the mark again. Potter was really turning out to be a lot brighter than Draco thought he was.

“And I think, subconsciously, you have a death wish,” Draco replied. Potter looked up, his eyes flashing for a moment with emotion before they dulled again. Draco was beginning to feel the desperate need to move the conversation away from his problems. He slid off his chair onto his knees and reached across the coffee table for the bottle of whisky. 

He didn’t particularly want to talk about Potter’s problems either. They weren’t friends, not yet at least. Draco poured himself another small glass of whisky. He didn’t particularly care about Potter or his problems. With a quick glance at Potter’s empty glass, he poured some in there too. He frowned at himself, realising that he must at least care a small amount. He scowled as he downed his glass of whisky.

“What’s going on with Snape?” Potter asked, a slightly exasperated tone to his voice.

Draco gave a small smirk and shook his head. It really wasn’t for him to say- it should be Severus who let Potter know. Although, Draco mused, Severus would probably never reveal anything about himself to Potter. At least if Draco did it, he could move the conversation away from himself. He sighed, running a shaky hand through his hair as he thought of the best way to dive into the explanation. 

“In your Occlumency lesson you saw… things from Severus’ past,” Potter nodded jerkily, “I’m pretty sure I don’t have to explain what you saw,” Potter bit the inside of his cheek and shook his head, “good, because I’d rather not talk about that in any detail.”

“I don’t blame you,” Potter said quietly. Draco gave him a reasonably soft look, considering, and continued.

“Well, Severus doesn’t react well to reminders of his past. Which isn’t surprising. He… he can be very self-destructive if his memories resurface,” Draco told him. Potter frowned.

“But he usually seems so…”

“Controlled, I know. I didn’t believe it at first either,” Draco said.

“What does he do?” Potter asked. Draco sighed, pulling at his robes as he stared into the fire, “I thought I heard you tell Remus something about ‘sniffing’ or ‘solvents’ or something like that,” Draco nodded slowly, “so what? Snape is a solvent abuser?” Draco looked up at Potter’s disbelieving tone of voice and gave him a pointed look, “Oh…”

Silence descended again before Potter spoke up.

“Why did you come and get Remus?” He asked. Draco shrugged.

“I didn’t know what else to do. Severus won’t listen to me, I hoped he would listen to Lupin,” Draco explained.

“Do you think he will?” Potter asked and Draco looked up from the fire, his eyes meeting Potter’s.

“I hope so.”

They lapsed into a silence more comfortable than had ever been felt between them, a wordless agreement that enough had been said for one night. Potter sipped the last of his whisky, staring into the slowly dying flames in the fireplace. Draco felt a yawn creeping up in his throat and he clenched his teeth, forcing it back down. He glanced at the clock, mildly shocked to find that it was now twenty to one in the morning. He ran his fingers through his hair before standing up. He swayed slightly on his feet, unaware of how much he had been affected by the alcohol. Potter watched him walk slowly to the door. Draco paused just as he grabbed the door handle.

“Are you staying here?” He asked. Potter nodded.

“Just awhile longer,” Draco gave him a quick nod and opened the door.

“Good night, Potter,” Draco as he left the room.

“Night, Malfoy.”

Draco shut the door and made his way along the corridor, running a hand through his hair. It had been such a long fucking day that for once he actually felt like he wanted to sleep. He just hoped Severus was okay.

\- - -

**To Be Continued…?**   
_A/N: Who squeed at all in this chapter? I did! As I wrote Potter saying he would join the IC I nearly cried, the sap I am! I mean, so far, BR has built up to that and suddenly it was there. Madness. Anywho, this chapter was fantastic fun to write. I heart Draco so very much. Thank you to everyone who has stuck with us and reviewed chapters- you are all very lovely. And hopefully, there will be some nice shiny reviews for this chapter because, as CS has often stated, we are whores of the review kind._  
Kisses,  
Rora. 

\- - -


	45. Chapter XLV

  
Author's notes: "You're beyond now- redemption, and no one's going to catch you when you fall." Harry’s back at Hogwarts. His allegiances are wavering. It’s only a matter of time…  
[Slash, self-harm, eating disorders, drug use… AU5]  


* * *

** Beyond Redemption **   
_By Sisters of Darkness_

\- - -

For this Chapter:

**Rating(s)** : R-Rated.  
 **Pairing(s)** : Mentions of Harry Potter/ Sirius Black.  
 **Warning(s)** : Mentions of Self-Harm; Solvent Abuse; Abuse.

\- - -

**Chapter XLV**   
_By CS WhiteWolf_

**H** arry sat upon the sill, hugging his knees to his chest, shivering against the chill air that circulated the Astronomy Tower, a burning cigarette butt hanging limp from his fingers as he stared unseeingly out the window and out over the darkened grounds of the school. His thoughts were turned inwards swirling furiously around his head much like the light blizzards of snow that relentlessly churned their way over the school. 

It had been three days since his last Occlumency lesson, two since his confession to Malfoy. Thinking back on it, Harry was startled by himself for so freely admitting that which he had barely allowed himself to think upon, and yet, having said the words with the intention of making them truth, Harry felt that they were true and that if he took the time to think things over, he did wish to join the Inner Circle- at least over Dumbledore’s Order. 

To have Remus backing him on whatever his decision was enough to appease even the slightest twinges of guilt as he thought of those he would be betraying in his decision to swap sides. Guilt that was appeased also with the knowledge that the IC would understand him better than any of his friends could ever hope to. For did they not also have their own methods of self-harm to help heal them? 

From what he’d managed to wangle out of Malfoy it would appear that this was indeed the case. Malfoy cut and if his shaking hands and comments about itching to scratch were any indication there was also something else the younger Malfoy did… something else that he craved, was perhaps addicted to? But it mattered not to him at the moment to analyse Malfoy’s behaviour and habits as images of a memory not his own filled his mind. 

He’d seen Snape yesterday, briefly- long enough to know that the man was still alive and just as vile and vindictive as ever to those who crossed his path. For some reason seeing the Potions Master- _potions abuser_ \- had made him feel weak with relief. His dreams the night Remus had fled to the man’s chambers had been filled with dreams and nightmares of worry and pain as he’d slipped into sleep sometime in the early hours. 

He’d awoken alone the next morning, still in Remus’ rooms, not knowing if that was a positive sign or not. He’d spent the rest of the day attending classes in a haze and feeding lame excuses to anyone who sought to question his absence from them the previous day. To see Snape stalking down the hallways on his way to lunch, taking points left, right and centre from anyone he came across, had left Harry slumped against the banister, his eyes watching the Potions Master until the very last snap of his robe had disappeared into the Great Hall. 

He’d looked up and met Malfoy’s eyes across the entrance hall- the relief in them just as evident, if not more so than Harry’s own. Least to say that the blond boy hadn’t followed Snape into the Great Hall- he’d turned on his heel and headed straight back into the dungeons his entourage of Slytherins left confused in his wake.

After dinner- which he’d actually attended, Remus had pulled him aside to let him in on a few things and assure him that everything was all right. He’d admitted to knowing about Snape- that Malfoy had told him more or less what was going on. When questioned as to why Malfoy would tell him something like that, Harry had admitted also to expressing his desire to join the IC. Remus had smiled at him, held him close and told him that no matter what he chose, Remus would always be with him. 

Harry smiled softly at the memory.

That had been last night, and he’d not seen anyone since, having spent the first day of the weekend holed up in this room, engrossed in his own thoughts and musings and trying not to think about his impending Occlumency lesson that very evening. Trying not to wonder if he could face Snape and pretend he hadn’t been affected by his memory; that he hadn’t worried… that he didn’t _know_. 

The wind rattled violently at the window, jerking Harry from his thoughts and causing him to wince as his frozen form cramped from the sudden movement after spending so long in the same position. Slowly, Harry stretched himself, cringing at the sound of his knees cracking as he swung them over the edge of the windowsill before hopping down to the ground. 

He flicked his barely smoked cigarette out the partly-opened window before scooping up his bag and heading, slowly and somewhat reluctantly for the Potions classroom.

\- - -

There was only silence between them for a long moment as they simply stared at each other, neither of them quite sure how to act all of a sudden- with knowing that the other knew. Then Snape spun on his heel, robes billowing behind him as he moved to the centre of the room, wand sliding into his hand as he waited- almost impatiently for Harry to get into position so that their Occlumency lesson could begin. 

Frowning, Harry moved to oblige the other man, stopping before him, his own wand held tightly. 

“Sir…?” He began, hesitantly, not sure what to say but wanting to say something anyway. Snape’s only response was to his out a ‘ _Legilimens_!’. And Harry was thrown into his own mind and the memories that lay therein. 

_A knife poised above light and deeply scarred skin- SS… bloodied pages of a torn journal, tears and blood falling upon pages of a barely legible scrawl… ‘…told him I’d join the Inner Circle’…_

Harry gasped for breath, pressing a hand against his eyes, the other catching hold of a desk as he waited to regain his equilibrium after the attack on his mind. 

“You didn’t even try, Potter.” 

Harry suppressed a scowl, vaguely noting the questioning look in Snape’s eyes from the memories he’d witnessed. Harry stood straight and held his wand out, nodding his head at Snape and preparing to have his mind violated once more. 

“Legilimens!” 

_Picking spiders off his socks… Sirius laughing as Harry fell off his motorbike… Draco Malfoy confirming Harry’s conclusion that Snape was a solvent abuser… ‘Please no, father…’_

Harry found himself on his knees, a pale but glaring Potions Master hovering over him, arms folded stiffly as he watched Harry pick himself from the floor, fingers probing at his temples where the beginnings of a headache were sure to originate. 

“So,” Snape began, his voice soft and hissing, “You know then?” 

Harry contemplated simply not answering but the look on Snape’s face brooked for none of it. Harry nodded. “Ya,” he began, needing to clear his throat as the word caught in his throat and came out as more of a croak. He felt a stain of embarrassment stealing over his cheeks, heating them. 

“Yeah, I know about it.” 

“And tell me, Mr. Potter just what you know?” 

“I- I only know the basics,” The raising of Snape’s eyebrow, even at a time like this, showed just what he thought of that comment. Harry ignored the older man- unable to summon even the energy needed to feel anger and irritation with Snape. 

“I know you were… that… about your past,” Snape tensed, eyes darkening and shuttering. Harry swallowed thickly but kept speaking when the Potions Master remained silent. “I know you… like your potions more than you should…” 

Snape snorted at that comment, “Do you know anything that you haven’t already been told, Mr Potter?” Snape’s voice was cool and elusive. 

Harry bristled a little. “Yes actually, I do.” He folded his arms in imitation of Snape, “I know you’re hurting everyone who loves you.” He watched as Snape tensed. “I know you let your past consume you, let it control you to the point of being excluding all else around you.” 

“Potter,” Snape interrupted but Harry shook his head. 

“Professor,” He continued, watching the older man carefully, “I also know that you’ll probably resent me even more for saying all this but… I was with Malfoy that night, the night Remus practically fled to the dungeons to make sure you were all right. You weren’t there to see how… worried- _afraid_ \- Malfoy looked. You’re… I don’t know everything, but you’re probably hurting them as much as you’re hurting yourself. I- this probably won’t count for much, but… I don’t want you to keep hurting yourself either.”

Snape was quiet for so long that Harry began fidgeting, dropping his eyes to the ground and praying that he hadn’t spoken too terribly out of turn.

“Potter,” Snape’s voice was soft and lacking any sort of scathing or mocking quality. Harry looked up, seeing Snape holding his wand out as if to continue their lessons. “This time I want you to push me from your mind… I shall be, gentle.” 

Harry gaped at him, having expected something more along the lines of a comment on Harry’s little speech, not their Occlumency lesson. 

“Sir…?” But Snape ignored him again in favour of another _Legilimens_.

\- - -

_It was as if he were viewing the memory through a pensive, though he rather felt as though he’d simply used a time turner to get to where he was. The dark, dimness of Grimmauld Place was suppressing enough without the oppressive atmosphere created when Snape and Sirius were in the same vicinity. They were in the kitchen, seated at opposite ends of the table and there- in the doorway- looking awkward and gangly he stood, clearing his throat to announce his presence. He watched with pain and pride as Sirius- beautiful, handsome, Sirius, looking so alive- stood for his defence of having Snape teach him Occlumency, watched with curiosity and resentment as both men baited and taunted each other, watched with morbid fascination as he tried to keep them apart, to stop them from hexing each other._

Harry managed to remain upright as he pushed Snape from his mind- the now gentle probing from the Potions Master, though still strong enough to slip easily through his meagre defences, allowed for Harry to retain some sense of cohesion, and even though he was still drawn into the memories along with Snape, he was- to some small degree- able to ‘sit back’ and focus on repelling the man as opposed to drowning in a flood of memories. 

“ _Legilimens_!”

_…‘I know how you like to feel… involved’… ‘…give Harry a hard time, you’ll have me to answer to.’… ‘Sirius!’… ‘Snivellus’… ‘Tell me, how is Lucius Malfoy these days? I expect he’s delighted his lapdog’s working at Hogwarts,’… ‘Speaking of lapdogs…’_

The memories he viewed however still managed to affect him just as strongly as when he had no control whatsoever- especially those where Sirius was concerned. And as he pushed Snape from his mind for the forth time that night, Harry couldn’t help but sink down to the floor of his own accord- his mind a whir of doubt and guilt and grief.

Memories of his own self-harm, of sitting in companionable silence with Malfoy, even having Snape’s Worst Memory replayed in his head had not brought up the kinds of emotions as seeing Sirius had- looking as real and alive as he had in life whenever Harry was around to chase the shadows of Azkaban away.

They really had hated each other- Sirius and Snape- still hated each other even, since they had not been anywhere near a reconciliation before his godfather’s demise. 

Tears pricked at his eyes as Sirius’ face swam before his mind’s eye- his usually happy and smiling, carefree face twisted itself into one of disgust and betrayal, as if Harry- in allowing himself to be enticed over to the dark-side, no matter if he eventually sided with them or not- was in some way insulting Sirius, betraying the man he’d loved more than life itself. As if he were denouncing Sirius and his memory for the side that had been responsible for his death. Sirius fought for the light- gave his life for their cause, to help Harry. Was he not then obliged out of honour, out of love, to avenge Sirius? 

“Potter?” 

Harry looked up, forgetting for a moment where he was and whom he was with, he watched as Snape stepped closer towards him before he ducked his head, wiping surreptitiously at his face, blinking away bitter tears before they had a chance to fall.

“Harry?” Harry flinched slightly, a gesture not gone amiss by Severus as he stepped closer still before dropping down into a crouch before the boy. He suppressed a smirk at the slightly incredulous look Harry gave him, his amusement sobering to one of seriousness as he saw the pained emotions flittering across the Gryffindor’s face, visible for any and all to read and interpret. 

“I know what you’re thinking,” Severus began, Harry looked away from him, not daring to meet the man’s eyes. In another uncharacteristic gesture, Severus reached out and touched at Harry’s shoulder- causing the boy to jolt at the action, eyes turning first to stare at his pale hand before looking up into Severus’ face. Severus squeezed his shoulder in a gesture that could be mistaken as comforting.

“I don’t need to look into your mind to see your thoughts, Harry, you still wear your emotions on your sleeve.” 

Harry jerked, trying to dislodge his shoulder from Snape’s grip, but the Potions Master held fast. 

“You listen to me now, Harry,” Snape said softly and Harry looked up, eyes swimming with emotion. “I know you loved him. And from your memories it is clear that he loved you most dearly in return. But he is dead now and you have a chance to start a new life. From what I know of your relationship with him- he would not begrudge you this.” A few tears dripped from Harry’s eyes as Severus spoke, “Black- Sirius, would want you to be happy, Harry, he would want you to follow your heart, he would want you to find peace and happiness and even love. And do you know why?” 

Harry shook his head, leaning forward as Snape’s words appeared to get softer and softer with each word. 

“Because he loved you. Loved you more than life itself- that much is obvious from what I’ve been able to witness. He loved you enough to sacrifice his life to save you and would only want you to be happy no matter what you chose.” Severus’ grip tightened fractionally. “I’ve never liked Black. I won’t try to pretend otherwise, but from your memories I know how he felt about you and… and he won’t hate you for this, Harry. He would never hate you.” 

Harry gasped for breath, ducking his head as his tears fell freely from his eyes, a heavy burden lifted from his very soul at the words; at the words Snape of all people had spoken to him. He buried his face in his hands, trying to suppress the tears that freely fell. All the while Snape’s hand remained upon his shoulder- a heavy and comforting presence. And despite his grief, Harry hoped that Snape had someone who could reassure him when everything became too much for him. Even if that someone had to be Remus.

\- - -

**To Be Continued…?**   
_Thank you to everyone who reviewed the last two chapters, the response was most squee-worthy and we honestly cannot thank you guys enough! Keep it up, please!  
To any and all of you waiting for the appearance of the Snupin side-fic I mentioned in my last chapter- it will be up sometime this week. The first part is almost finished so it shouldn’t be too long in getting out! Thanks to everyone who has expressed an interest in reading it- it has been titled ‘More Than Ever’, which I found rather fitting myself considering what it will contain!   
Thanks again!  
Peace,  
CS WhiteWolf ___

__\- - -_ _

__

____


	46. Chapter XLVI

  
Author's notes: "You're beyond now- redemption, and no one's going to catch you when you fall." Harry’s back at Hogwarts. His allegiances are wavering. It’s only a matter of time…  
[Slash, self-harm, eating disorders, drug use… AU5]  


* * *

** Beyond Redemption **   
_By Sisters of Darkness_

\- - -

For this Chapter:

**Rating(s)** : R-Rated.  
 **Pairing(s)** : None.  
 **Warning(s)** : Adult Language; Mentions of Solvent Abuse/Drug Use/Self-Harm.

\- - -

**Chapter XLVI**   
_Aurora Enkeli Medeis_

**T** hree days. Three days had been and gone since Potter’s revelation. Draco wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting to happen but he found the fact that everything was just as it was, slightly odd. He’d spoken to Potter twice since it had happened, both times upon visiting the other boy in the Astronomy Tower. Of course, every time he spoke to or even saw Potter, his mind wandered to the notion that at some point, maybe sooner, maybe later, he could be engaged in a lot more than just conversation with the Gryffindor. It should have disturbed him but it didn’t- and that really disturbed him. 

There was something bothering him considerably more that the way he was feeling about Potter- Severus. They hadn’t spoken, other than as teacher and student in class on Friday, since the night Draco had sent Lupin down to save Severus from himself. At first, Draco thought Severus was annoyed or even angry for getting others involved but, he had realised, if Severus had been angry, Draco would have known about it. The other thought he entertained, was the possibility that Severus was now preoccupied with Potter but he quelled that thought quickly, knowing he had no basis for thinking it. 

It was dinner and Draco was planning to pay Severus a visit at some point in the evening to finally confront him about what had happened. Although it was now just a matter of building up the courage to put his plan into action. There was, of course, an ulterior motive to visiting Severus. It was three days ago that his cravings had hit him and so far, he’d still had no cocaine. It wasn’t affecting him too badly most of the time, other times however he found himself shaking, snapping and, more than once, breaking things. 

He poked idly at some vegetables, the fork noticeably shaking in his right hand. Blaise was giving him an odd look but was keeping his mouth shut. No good ever came from pointing out another Slytherin’s weakness. Draco looked up through strands of hair, over Pansy’s shoulder to the Gryffindor table. Potter was between Weasley and Granger as usual, not eating much of anything and ignoring their withering looks. It was as Draco watched him that he wondered if Potter would accept help from the IC. Would he be able to open himself to them given how, literally, cut up about his godfather’s death he was?

Out of the corner of his eye, Draco spotted Severus leaving the top table and sweeping out of the Great Hall with nary a look in anyone else’s direction. Looking back up to the teacher’s table, Draco noticed Lupin frowning pensively down into his glass. Draco sighed, sitting down his cutlery and standing up from the bench. As he stepped away from the table, he noticed Potter watching him through strands of messy black hair. Draco gave the Gryffindor the smallest of nods that Harry returned before going back to staring a hole through the table. Draco shook his head as he left the hall. Potter really needed better friends.

Wandering down into the dungeons, Draco fell into a habit of wiping his hands down the front of his robes, the palms feeling uncharacteristically clammy. Draco couldn’t decide if his cravings or nerves were causing it. All too soon in Draco’s opinion, he found himself at the door of the Potions classroom; sure that Severus would be at his desk marking pre-Christmas assignments. Not that all classes wouldn’t be kept working for the next week or so. Draco knocked three times and paused, for a change, before opening the door. Severus looked up from his desk briefly as Draco closed the door.

“What is it, Draco? I’m busy,” Severus said as he scribbled on some parchment. Draco bit the inside of his cheek to stop himself snapping back.

“I wanted to talk to you about the other night,” Draco said as he took a few steps towards Severus’ desk. Severus sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“The matter is not up for discussion,” Severus replied. Draco felt his anger bubbling but he did his best not to let it show.

“Well I wish to discuss it,” Draco said, his tone holding a finality to it as he hopped up onto a desk.

“Then you will be discussing it with yourself,” Severus said, adding one bit of parchment to a pile and taking down another.

“God damn it, Severus!” Draco snapped and Severus looked up, “You could have killed yourself like you nearly did last time you went to your Potions,” Severus’ eyes narrowed.

“I will remind you that I am still your Professor and as such you will show be some respect,” Severus said, his voice low and threatening.

“I’m not talking to you as your student, I’m talking to you as a person who cares and worries about you,” Draco replied. Severus looked thoughtful for a moment before replying.

“Well, as you can see, I am fine,” Draco rolled his eyes.

“Only because Lupin came down before you could do something stupid,” Draco told him, folding his arms over his chest. Severus scowled down at his desk.

“There was no need for him, or you, to interfere,” Severus said angrily, “I can take care of myself,” Draco jumped up from the desk and took a step towards where Severus was seated.

“We interfere because we care about you,” Severus made a dismissive noise and Draco put his hands angrily on the Potions Master’s desk, “don’t act like you don’t know these things. Did the affect it may have on the people who love you ever once occur to you?” Severus said nothing and Draco snorted, “No, of course you didn’t,” Severus sat his quill down calmly and clasped his hands together on the desk.

“And those times you nearly overdosed yourself on cocaine, did you ever stop to think about who else you may be hurting?”

Draco’s silver eyes narrowed as he gripped the edge of the desk tighter to stop his hands from shaking. Severus looked to Draco’s hands momentarily before meeting the younger man’s gaze again.

“At least I was willing to ask for help. I recognised that people cared about me whereas you won’t stop for a second to realise that we love you.”

Silence reigned over the room while the two of them stared at each other. Draco could feel his entire body beginning to shake and he was having trouble hiding it. Severus leant back in his chair, his face softening a fraction.

“Do you require a dosage?” Severus asked, changing the subject completely. Draco stood up straight, knowing that the argument was over and Severus had accepted his point. Draco nodded. Severus stood up from his desk and made his way across to his private office. Draco followed, scratching at the inside of his left wrist. 

Closing the door and sitting down, Draco was handed his bag of cocaine and poured some out under Severus’ watchful gaze.

“That is enough, Draco,” Severus said when Draco had barely poured out enough for one line. The blond was about to argue when he thought the better of it. Taking the straw to his nostril, Draco clamped the other nostril shut and snorted up the line, wiping any excess powder from his face. He sat back in his chair, feeling the shaking of his hands subsiding as the smallest of highs washed over him. 

Severus reached across the table and plucked up the bag, sealing it shut and putting it back in his drawer. Draco ran a hand through his hair, happy to notice that he was calming down considerably. Severus was still watching him but Draco wasn’t quite sure what to say. A huge part of him was desperate to bury his face in Severus’ chest and stay that way for a long time but he knew it was not an option. He stood up and Severus followed suit. As Severus opened the office door, Draco wrung his hands, highly perplexed by the nervousness he was feeling.

“Severus?” Draco said quietly. The Potions Master turned around.

“Yes?” Draco sighed and stepped forward, pressing his cheek into Severus’ chest and wrapping his arms around the dark haired man’s thin waist. Severus seemed stunned for a moment before he wrapped his arms around Draco, briefly running his fingers through Draco’s hair. Draco sighed again, bury his face deeper into Severus’ robes. The Potions Master pressed a fleeting kiss to the top of Draco’s head before pulling away. 

They left the office and Severus sat behind his desk and went back to his marking.

“I will see you in class tomorrow, Draco,” Severus said, dipping his quill into a pot of red ink. Draco smirked briefly at Severus’ ability to pretend that nothing remotely affectionate had happened.

“Goodbye, Severus,” Draco said as he stepped around the desks and opened the door. He looked back over his shoulder and Severus gave him a brief nod goodbye. Draco stepped out into the corridor and closed the door behind him. He should go back to the common room and work on an Ancient Runes essay but he really couldn’t face it yet. And, if he were honest, there was somewhere else he’d rather be.

Draco swept through the corridors, climbing the stairs into the Entrance Hall. He made his way along several corridors and up many flights of stairs before finally reaching the corridor he’d been aiming for. Walking to the door at the end of the corridor, Draco pushed it open without hesitation. The smell of tobacco hit his nostrils as he closed the door and made his way across the room.

“Malfoy,” Potter said without looking up.

“Potter,” Draco replied, sitting on a desk beside the windowsill where Potter was seated. It was odd, Draco thought, sitting here so comfortably in Potter’s presence. He felt no need to strike up a conversation or force any kind of interaction. He looked round at Potter briefly, watching him scribble something in his notebook. Potter looked up for a moment, his eyes meeting Draco’s through strands of hair before he looked back out the window. Potter took a drag of the cigarette and Draco watched the tip of it flare. 

Looking back on the day, Draco noticed that things had changed somewhat so far but in the next month or so, things would change further, maybe for the better, he wasn’t sure. He leant back against the wall as Potter exhaled, the smell of the smoke not bothering him as much as it once had.

\- - -

**To Be Continue…?**   
_A/N: I wrote that last line sitting in a changing room in Glasgow, so very random. Anyway, I’m not sure what to say other than- thanks as always for the reviews, we hope to see more, BR is good, I love Draco. True story._  
Take care sweethearts,  
Aurora Enkeli Medeis. 

_P >S> CS WhiteWolf promises that she will respond to the reviews left for her chapter sometime tomorrow as she is currently suffering from sleep deprivation and heading off to bed. That is all._


	47. Chapter XLVII

  
Author's notes: "You're beyond now- redemption, and no one's going to catch you when you fall." Harry’s back at Hogwarts. His allegiances are wavering. It’s only a matter of time…  
[Slash, self-harm, eating disorders, drug use… AU5]  


* * *

** Beyond Redemption **   
_By Sisters of Darkness_

\- - -

For this Chapter:

**Rating(s)** : R-Rated.  
 **Pairing(s)** : None; Mentions of Harry Potter/ Sirius Black.  
 **Warning(s)** : None.

\- - -

**Chapter XLVII**   
_By CS WhiteWolf_

**H** arry was freezing. His fingers numb and frozen into place around the handle of the broom he still lazily flew through the crisp December air, even despite the chill permeating through to his very bones. Teeth chattering and glasses all but useless with the flurry of falling snowflakes, Harry still lapped his broom around the Quidditch pitch- his lungs burning from the workout he’d just subjected himself to before slowing and attempting to relax his muscles. 

With a shake of his head he sent the droplets of water clinging to his hair flying only to be replaced mere seconds later by a fresh layer of quickly-melting snowflakes. He didn’t like the snow. Not really. He especially didn’t like being out in the snow- not with it blowing every which way and getting into ones eyes and mouth. Yet still he turned his broom for another lap of the pitch, almost heedless of his surroundings as he both tried to lose himself in himself, and to keep himself aware of everything about him.

It was the day before the Christmas holidays were due to start; the week preceding had felt to him both agonisingly slow and much too fast for his likings. Harry was desperate to get away from the school, away from those who called themselves his friends and those who pretended to care about his well being at all. And yet, the holidays would mean returning to Grimmauld Place- to Sirius’ house, a place he had not dared visit since his godfather’s death way back in June. 

He’d been informed that the house had been left to him in Sirius’ will, and as much as he wanted just to be rid of it, he could not bare to part with it either- a last link to the man he loved, a place that held so many memories for him, so many hours spent with his godfather just hanging out, fooling around, making love. So many little things that were bound to overwhelm him the moment he stepped back into that dismal house. 

_Sliding down the banister and landing on Sirius, laughing as the man tickled the mercy out of him for it… being bent over the kitchen table, using butter for lube… flying on Sirius’ motorbike at night, through the starlit skies- Sirius’ arms wrapped tightly about him, keeping him warm despite the frostiness of the altitude…_

With a shiver, Harry broke from his thoughts. His lungs burning with every breath of air he tried to inhale, his nose swollen red and useless as he gulped for oxygen, fighting against the sting of tears in his eyes with frantic blinking. Getting himself under control once more, Harry hovered mid-air; his eyes closed as he tried to suppress the onslaught of tears. Yet even as he managed to rein in his emotions, he realised with a strange sense of detachment that though it still pained him terribly to think on his memories with Sirius, he now looked on them more with fondness than the oppressive sense of sadness and overwhelming loss that he once was wont. 

He thought back to his Occlumency lesson last Saturday evening, and to the memories of Sirius he had witnessed and Snape’s words of consolation to him. He remembered with a blush of embarrassment that was lost upon his cold-flushed cheeks, how he had practically broken down in the Potions Master’s presence. 

And though the man had said naught about it when next he’d seen him, Harry knew that the words he’d spoken on the night- those about Sirius accepting his choices, no matter what- were true. He was still at somewhat of a loss as to the Potions Master’s reasoning for speaking as he had, but Harry was grateful and hopeful also that Snape would take the words he’d spoken as seriously as Harry’s had taken Snape’s.

Squinting through the thickening flakes of snow, Harry angled his broom and shot off in the direction of Hogwarts. He was beyond feeling the cold, a comfortable numb having settled over his body from the hours spent out in the wintriness of the air, but he knew he could not afford to linger any longer, not unless he wished to catch a cold and spend the rest of the holidays stuck in the Hospital Wing.

That thought alone was enough to have him urging his broom to speed up a little more until, with an ungraceful thump, he arrived at the front door and tumbled unceremoniously from his broom to the ground. His limbs stiff and shaky as he pulled himself to his feet and stumbled his way into the entrance hall, the rush of warm air over him was both welcoming and resented as his body began to tingle with the feeling of a thousand and more pins and needles pricking into his skin. 

Slowly, Harry made his way up towards Gryffindor Tower, ignoring the rustle and bustle of the students about him as they rushed to and fro trying to find and pack their belongings before the train left in the morning. He spoke the password to the fat lady and entered the common room- the wave of Christmas cheer permeating from within the garishly coloured room had him instantly regretting his choice to come to the Tower. Having Ron and Hermione rushing over and shoving him in the direction of the fireplace was another reason. Though the drying charm Hermione perfectly executed was welcomed. 

“Honestly, Harry!” The bushy-haired girl began, and Harry mostly tuned her out as he warmed himself before the flames. “What were you thinking flying in this weather? You could’ve frozen to death out there!” 

“I’m fine, Hermione,” He replied, leaning back against the chair behind him. “It wasn’t this bad earlier.” They looked out the large windows, the overcast sky and falling snow obscuring most of the view outside. Hermione gave a sniff of disbelief, which Harry purposely ignored in favour of staring up at the ceiling- which for all intently and purposes, was a lot more interesting than a lecture from the brown-haired know-it-all could ever be. 

He wondered why she had to be so bossy, wondered if it made her feel better about herself to have all of the answers all of the time. Harry could feel her stare boring into the side of his head and he bit down on his tongue to keep from snapping at her to mind her own business- still she wore that calculating gleam in her eyes whenever she looked at him, as if he would spill the very secrets of his soul under her brown-eyed stare. He tasted the tang of blood as his canines bit through the spongy muscle of his tongue, he breathed deep through his nose- calming himself before relaxing his jaw, easing the pressure on his tongue and stemming the trickle of blood in the process.

“Hey, Harry?” Ron’s voice broke through his inner musings, causing him to look up and blankly at the redhead. “Do you want to play?” 

Harry could practically smell the hope wafting off of Ron as he set the chess board before Harry. He gave a wane smile and agreed more for the sake of occupying his wondering mind than to socialize with his friend. He was slightly saddened that he felt this way, that his friendship with the two Gryffindors wasn’t nearly so strong as it had first been- as he had always imagined it to be. 

But in all honesty there was nothing he could do to salvage it. He did not want to confide in them the secrets he kept and they did not ask, though he could tell that Hermione was dying to know- to examine him and his problems like some potions projects. 

He absentmindedly moved one of his pieces, which was immediately crushed, by one of Ron’s own. He tried not to roll his eyes at Ron’s smug expression and continued the game with disinterest. 

“Are you sure you don’t want to come over to the Burrow for Christmas, Harry? Mum is rather upset that you keep refusing her offer.” 

Harry shook his head. “No thanks. I’ve told her I’d just rather sit this one out with Remus. I’ll be back at Grimmauld Place and, well… I’d rather just have a quiet Christmas this year.”

“We could come with you?” Hermione offered, moving over to sit beside them, “Even if it’s just for the one day?” 

Harry held back a glare. “No, it’s fine. You should both be with your families; I’ll be perfectly all right with Remus this year. Besides, this is just something I need to do this year.” 

Both Ron and Hermione gave him sympathetic smiles before they continued with the game of chess. Ron quickly turning his mind to the game, but Hermione kept flickering her eyes from the board to Harry to the board and back again though she didn’t say a word. Harry almost wished she would as the afternoon dragged on and game after game dragged out. He felt himself becoming rather lethargic, his eyelids becoming heavy and more than once he had to suppress himself a yawn or two. 

He thought vaguely of leaving the game and moving up to the dormitories and the bed that awaited him, but the very thought of going to bed had him recalling the reason why he’d awoken at the crack of dawn that very morning in the first place. It had all been because of a dream. But not just any dream, this was involved the Dark Lord. 

He could remember seeing Voldemort staring at his own reflection in a mirror, his body naked from the waist upwards, but instead of the half-formed being he’d seen at the end of his forth year, or even the snake-face, gaunt wizard at the end of his fifth- Harry had seen an almost inhumanly man. 

He’d still had his snake-like features, the slit to his eyes and his thin almost lipless mouth, but there too was humanness about him- it was reflected in the thick dark hair that framed his face, in the high cheekbones and slender upper frame… 

Voldemort had smirked at him, his eyes a strange and swirling mix of green and crimson as he stared into the mirror, into it and through it, to him- to Harry. He hadn’t said a word, hadn’t done anything other than stare and smirk- at him. Yet he had still woken with a jolt, bolting upright in his bed with his heart pounding something fierce and his breathing coming in short, harsh gasps as if he’d just spent the duration of the dream running for his life as opposed to sleeping. 

The dream had unsettled him and he’d been unable to return to sleep, his mind spinning and churning with thoughts of the Dark Lord he would soon be required to meet in _friendlier_ circumstances. Harry was just thankful he would have a Voldemort-free Christmas despite his admission to wanting to join the Inner Circle.

Voldemort’s crimson-flecked-green eyes flittered before his minds eyes and he shivered. The most unnerving thing about the dream for him though, was that he knew it wasn’t one. 

His scar tingled almost mockingly as Harry moved his next chess piece. 

\- - -

**To Be Continued…?**   
_Thanks all for the reviews we received for last chapter, keep it up people! It pleases us greatly to see such physical proof of your support for BR! We hope you liked this chapter as well, though it is more of a bridging-chapter to set Harry up a bit for what Christmas will bring! Please do review and let us know your thoughts on it!_   
_For those of you who wanted the Severus/Remus side-story, now titled[More Than Ever](http://www.hpfandom.net/eff/viewstory.php?sid=4536)\- [part II](http://www.hpfandom.net/eff/viewstory.php?sid=4629&i=1) has now been uploaded as well for your reading pleasure! If you’re reading that one, please also review!_   
_Peace,  
CS WhiteWolf ___

__\- - -_ _

____


	48. Chapter XLVIII

  
Author's notes: "You're beyond now- redemption, and no one's going to catch you when you fall." Harry’s back at Hogwarts. His allegiances are wavering. It’s only a matter of time…  
[Slash, self-harm, eating disorders, drug use… AU5]  


* * *

** Beyond Redemption **   
_By Sisters of Darkness_

\- - -

For this Chapter:

**Rating(s)** : NC17.  
 **Pairing(s)** : Lucius/Narcissa (it’s mild, don’t panic), Draco/Lucius (it’s not so mild, do panic)  
 **Warning(s)** : Adult Language; Hints at Self-Harm; Het; Sexual Situations; Incest.

\- - -

**Chapter XLVIII**   
_By Aurora Enkeli Medeis_

**N** arcissa Malfoy ran a soft bristled brush through her long blonde hair, all the while aware of her husband watching her from where he was lounging on a green silk chaise. Sitting down the ornately hand painted brush, Narcissa picked up her mascara unscrewing the top and extracting the brush.

“Draco will be home soon,” Lucius said absently as he looked at the clock on the dressing table.

“Indeed,” Narcissa said, sweeping the mascara up her lashes. She knew when her husband was hiding his anticipation and she could barely conceal a smile at Lucius’ behaviour, “I assume he knows that Harry will be coming for Christmas?”

“Yes he does,” Lucius replied, “Severus told him. He apparently took it surprisingly well.”

Narcissa closed her mascara, switching it for a neutral coloured lipstick. The silver casing opened with a click and she wound the stick upwards.

“I also assume that Professor Lupin was told to inform Harry that our Lord would be attending the Manor on Christmas day?” She swept the lipstick over her upper and lower lips as Lucius “hmm”-ed in response. Her grey eyes narrowed as the lipstick closed with a click. She looked at his reflection in the mirror.

“You did tell Severus to tell Remus, didn’t you?” Narcissa asked. Lucius waved his hand dismissively as he stood up from the chaise, adjusting his robes.

“Of course I did,” he said, coming over to the dressing table. Narcissa slammed her lipstick down harder than necessary as she got up from the cushioned stool. 

“Lucius,” she said warningly, smoothing down the front of her deep blue robes. Even though his back was turned, she knew Lucius had rolled his eyes.

“I took care of it, Narcissa,” he replied, “don’t you trust me?” he drawled, raising an eyebrow. She gave a delicate snort as Lucius wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her close. He ran the back of his hand along Narcissa’s lightly blushered cheek. As his fingertips reached her hair, she snatched his wrist, moving it out to the side.

“I didn’t spend two hours getting ready just for you to grope me and ruin it,” she scolded. He groaned, pressing his hips to hers and leaning in for a kiss. Narcissa bent backwards before sliding out of Lucius’ arms and taking a few step backwards. Lucius advanced on her but she moved gracefully to the side, her robes swishing around her ankles. As Lucius made another attempt at her, they heard a familiar voice carrying around the corridors of the Manor.

“Mum? Dad?” 

Narcissa watched as Lucius attempted not to smile. She strode over to the door, Lucius’ arms slipping around her waist once more. He swept her hair off her neck, pressing a line of kisses up towards her ear. She turned in his grasp, narrowly avoiding having her lipstick smudged by Lucius’ mouth.

“Mum?” Draco shouted more insistently this time, “Dad? Where are you two?” she could hear the petulantly annoyed tone creeping into her son’s voice and she chuckled.

“Your son is home for Christmas, shall I send him up?” Narcissa said with an eyebrow raised. Lucius released Narcissa and nodded briefly. 

“Yes,” Lucius replied, taking a step backwards and attempting to sound indifferent, “tell him to come and see me whenever he finds himself available.”

“Very well then,” Narcissa said, rolling her eyes as she left the room. She knew that Draco would also try to come across as aloof when told to go and see his father before darting up the stairs and running along the corridor when he thought Narcissa had looked away. She shook her head as she reached the top of the grand staircase into the Entrance Hall- Lucius and Draco were really as bad as each other.

“Will you be careful with that trunk, you knobbly, incompetent elf?” Draco growled as the house elf that was levitating his Hogwarts trunk flinched in fear of being kicked in the head.

“It cannot be careful,” Narcissa said slowly, gaining her son’s attention, “if it is afraid of being beaten.”

Draco’s lips quirked into a smile as he strode across the marble floor to embrace his mother, the house elf taking the opportunity to disappear, trunk and all, with a pop. Narcissa wrapped her arms around her son’s thin waist and hugged him tightly, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. She pulled back slightly, brushing strands of errant hair off of Draco’s forehead, cupping both his cheeks in her hands.

“You look considerably better than when last I saw you,” she remarked and Draco snorted, “Not that it would be hard of course,” she added. 

“Severus says you have been eating more?” Narcissa said and Draco nodded slightly in his mother’s grasp. She lowered her voice a little, “he has also been keeping me informed of when he let’s you have your drugs.”

Draco frowned.

“But I didn’t think he would tell you and father after father simply made me quit,” Draco replied quietly. Narcissa shook her head.

“He knew your father would not take kindly to being contradicted on the matter, no matter who it was that was disagreeing with him,” she released Draco’s face, “he sent me an owl regarding your habit and has kept me updated, under the promise that your father will not find out, of course.”

“Of course,” Draco replied, “I don’t think he would be too happy to discover that you and Severus have been scheming with each other.”

Narcissa rolled her eyes for what she thought must have been the hundredth time that day- it was an unfortunate side-effect of living with Draco and Lucius Malfoy.

“We are hardly scheming, Draco,” she replied as his arms fell from her neck, “he is in our room. He has told me to inform you that you have to pay him a visit whenever you find yourself available.”

She saw the way that Draco strained to keep his face straight, the slight gleam in his grey eyes giving his excitement away instantly.

“Perhaps,” Draco began, already up four of the stairs, “I should pay him a visit while I remember.”

Narcissa ‘hmm’-ed at her son’s excuse, turning on her heel and striding into the main sitting room on the Manor, chuckling to herself as she heard her son practically running along the wooden floor of the corridor above. 

\- - -

Draco slowed his pace as he turned the corridor that led to his parent’s bedroom, quickly regaining his breath and reigning in his eagerness. When he reached the dark wood of the door he knocked sharply three times before pushing it open slightly. He caught sight of his father sitting in a green-silk covered mahogany chair, flipping through a book. Lucius looked up nonchalantly over the top of his book.

“Good afternoon, son,” Lucius said, sitting his opened book down on a side table. Draco nodded curtly, stepping into the room and closing the door behind him.

“Father,” he replied, “how are you?”

“I am well,” Lucius replied, taking a few steps across the room, “and you?”

“I’m fine, thank you,” Draco said as he stepped towards Lucius. A moment of silence past before Draco closed the distance between them, practically throwing his arms around his father’s neck, nuzzling his face into the slightly stubbled skin.

“I missed you so much,” Draco mumbled, inhaling deeply the scent of his father’s skin. Lucius gave a soft smile and pressed a lingering kiss to the top of Draco’s head.

“I’ve missed you too,” Lucius admitted quietly.

Draco kissed Lucius’ neck, any thoughts of a pretence at subtly quickly thrown out the window as he pressed a trail of kisses up towards his father’s ear. Lucius groaned, turning his head slightly and catching Draco’s lips. They both groaned- sexual frustration after their months apart bubbling to the surface as their tongues met.

The pace of the kiss grew heated as Lucius manoeuvred them over towards the lavishly quilted, king-sized bed, pulling off Draco’s school robes as he did so, leaving the boy completely naked. A judder of pleasure shot down Lucius’ spine, pooling in his groin as he thought of having his son moaning wantonly in the middle of the marital bed.

The backs of Draco’s knees hit the edge of the mattress and he toppled backwards, bouncing slightly as he looked up at his father through strands of hair with heavy lidded eyes. Lucius’ eyes flicked from Draco to the centre of the bed and the younger Malfoy instantly slid backwards.

Draco spread his legs slightly, running a hand lazily down his chest. There was a look of innocence on his face but from the smirk that was creeping over his lips, it was obvious to Lucius that his son knew exactly what he was doing. 

Lucius unfastened his robes quickly and they fell heavily to the floor. He watched Draco’s lips part, tongue flicking out to wet his bottom lip as his eyes wandered over his father’s body. Lucius slid onto the bed, gently pushing Draco’s legs apart with an insistent palm. 

Draco lay his head down as his father positioned himself between his legs, rubbing already leaking erections together. Draco gasped, nails finding purchase in the skin of Lucius’ back. Lucius groaned, rolling his hips again. Draco moaned, thrusting upwards, nails scrabbling at his father’s back. Leaning around to the side, Lucius latched his teeth onto the curve of Draco’s necks, sucking on the skin and bruising it, long locks of blond hair splaying over Draco’s face.

“Oh god,” Draco groaned, arching his back. Lucius snatched Draco’s wrists, stretching them to the side and pinning them to the mattress. He muttered a brief incantation, a slick warmth spreading round Draco’s entrance. 

Draco moaned, hiking his legs higher and wrapping them tightly around his father’s waist. In one fluid motion, Lucius slid into his son, head falling to Draco’s shoulder as the unprepared tightness gripped at him. A strangled moan escaped Draco’s lips as he panted heavily, trying to remember what it was to breathe. 

Lucius slid out slightly before thrusting back in, building a rhythm of short, quick, shallow thrusts, each one brushing the head of his cock over Draco’s prostate. 

A long, guttural scream ripped itself from the back of Draco’s throat as he climaxed, fingers desperately fisting themselves in the bed covers. Lucius could feel Draco’s muscles contracting around him, pulling an orgasm from him.

“Draco… oh Draco,” he moaned lowly into his son’s ear as he came, continuing the shallow thrusts until he pulled out and collapsed onto the bed beside Draco. 

In an instant, Draco had rolled onto his side, head resting on his father’s chest, an arm and a leg thrown over Lucius’ naked form. Lucius wrapped his arms protectively around Draco, fingers raking though sweat-dampened hair. Draco sighed contentedly, eyes fluttering shut. 

This was home. Not just the Manor but where he lay, wrapped in his father’s arms, head still light from orgasm. 

A few minutes slipped by in post-coital silence, Draco pressing a lazy kiss to his father’s chest every so often. Finally, Lucius spoke.

“Severus tells me that you took the news of Mr Potter joining us for Christmas rather well.”

Draco groaned screwing his face up.

“I’d rather not be naked while discussing Potter, if it’s all the same to you.”

Lucius snorted, chuckling at his son.

“I felt it best to bring up the subject while you were in a good mood,” Lucius explained. “Although from what I heard, you do not seem to be as adverse to Potter as you were.”

Draco sighed and rolled onto his back.

“Is there anything that Severus doesn’t tell you?” He asked, stretching his arms above him.

“He doesn’t tell me that he has been giving you doses of cocaine,” Lucius replied. Draco looked over at his father, a frown on his face.

“How do you know that?” 

“He has been informing your mother,” Lucius said.

“But mother hasn’t been telling you,” Draco said, thinking out loud more than anything else. The corner of Lucius’ lip tugged into a smirk.

“Draco, no information enters or leaves this house without my knowledge,” he replied. Draco snorted.

“I should have known,” Draco said, sliding back into his father’s arms, eyes drifting shut.

“Are you going to be able to accept Potter into the IC?” Lucius asked quietly. 

“Are you?” Draco retorted. 

“That was not the topic of conversation,” Lucius replied, kissing Draco’s hair, “answer me, dragon. Will you be able to accept him?”

Draco sighed. He’d been mulling over the question a lot in the last month, even more so since Potter’s admission about joining. He kissed Lucius’ chest.

“Yes,” he replied, voice almost a whisper, “I think I will.”

\- - -

**To Be Continued…?**   
_A/N: I had a ridiculous amount of problems actually getting this chapter done. I stopped, started, drank a glass of wine, ate a nectarine, started again, stopped again, looked at Snupin fan art, wrote a femmeslash, started once more and finally, everyone climaxed and the chapter got finished._  
Anyway, on HPFandom we are (at the time of posting) two reviews away from 300. It is truly mind boggling and we seriously appreciate it more than you guys can ever know! Now, as with reaching 100 and 200 reviews we both have shiny side-fics to give you when we reach that 300! Isn’t it exciting?   
Kisses,  
Rora. 

\- - -


	49. Chapter XLIX

  
Author's notes: "You're beyond now- redemption, and no one's going to catch you when you fall." Harry’s back at Hogwarts. His allegiances are wavering. It’s only a matter of time…  
[Slash, self-harm, eating disorders, drug use… AU5]  


* * *

** Beyond Redemption **   
_By Sisters of Darkness_

\- - -

For this Chapter:

**Rating(s)** : R-Rated.  
 **Pairing(s)** : None; Mentions of Harry Potter/ Sirius Black.  
 **Warning(s)** : None.

\- - -

**Chapter XLIX**   
_By CS WhiteWolf_

“ **A** re you ready, cub?” Remus reached out to squeeze gently at Harry’s shoulder, his warm eyes staring intently at him. Harry looked away, all too aware of his drawn and paled features, the way he stood slumped, shifting from foot to foot in anxious wait. 

He gave a barely perceptible nod of his head, taking a deep breath as he steeled himself, stepping onto the fireplace- hand reaching into the pot of floo powder, the blue sand seeping through his fingers as he hesitated, frightened eyes meeting with Remus’ concerned browns a moment before he threw the powder down, his destination barely choked out before he was spun away in a blur of dizziness and fireplaces. 

Harry stumbled from the hearth, his heart pounding and stomach flopping unpleasantly as he took a few shaky steps forward. His eyes scanned the dim expanse of the kitchen, the dull glow from the fireplace the only light source illuminating the dreary room. A lump was already beginning to form in his throat when the fireplace flared to life once more, Remus stepping smoothly from the hearth. 

Harry turned away from the werewolf, aware of the tears forming in his eyes at actually being in Grimmauld Place for the first time since before Sirius’ death. It felt like an eternity since he’d last been here, yet still the memories that flittered through his mind were as fresh as if it had been only yesterday. He could almost see Sirius sitting at the kitchen table, grinning at him, his face alight with happiness.

“Harry?” Remus came up behind him, his hand touching at his shoulder, his grip tightening when he felt a tremble run through Harry’s body, moving to pull him around, drawing the boy into his arms, pressing his head to his shoulder. He felt Harry’s breath against his neck, hot and heavy as the boy pushed his face closer, a warm splash of liquid the only sign that tears were being shed. Remus’ could only wrap his arms more fully about the boy, his eyes closing in pain at Harry’s grief.

He ran his fingers through Harry’s hair, soothing him with mumbled words of understanding until Harry finally pulled himself away, looking up with reddened eyes, his face so close, expression so open and needy that for a moment Remus thought he’d try to kiss him as he was now want to do when in need of comfort. At the last moment however, Harry turned his head away, using the sleeve of his robes to wipe at his eyes, at the wetness upon his cheeks. 

“It’s strange to be back here,” Harry said softly, clearing his throat when his voice threatened to break. 

Remus moved to stand before him, moving his hand to lift Harry’s face upwards, “I know, cub.” He ran his thumb across Harry’s cheek, “Try not to let it overwhelm you too much, hmm?” Harry’s lips twisted upwards in wry amusement at Remus’ words. 

“I’m going to go take a look around,” Harry said, his eyes once again roaming about the room. Remus frowned slightly but nodded his head knowing that Harry would need to get this out of his system if he expected to not only get over Sirius’ death, but also if he wanted to stay at Grimmauld Place, away from the school, for the holidays. 

“I’ll come find you later,” Remus said, stepping back at watching as Harry nodded distantly before leaving the room. 

It was all Harry could do not to run up the stairs, to throw the door to Sirius bedroom open in the hopes of seeing his godfather lying asleep in his bed- what had become _their_ bed. But Harry forced himself to move at a calm, sedate pace, knowing that no matter how fast he ran, how desperate he became, the only glimpses of Sirius he would see around Grimmauld Place now would be the memories that sprung to mind at the sight of… _that dent in the wall from when Sirius had become so frustrated with Dumbledore’s orders to stay inside the house_. Harry’s fingers traced the indent as he moved down the hallways, moved up and down staircases. 

_That book they’d found and then hidden in the library. The one with the pictures that made even Sirius blush_. Silent tears fell from Harry’s eyes as he ran his fingers over the books in the library, his eyes drifting reluctantly to the large table in the middle of the room, the one where… _Sirius had him thrashing and moaning in wanton desire as the man used only his tongue to pleasure him_.

He left the library at a run. Dashing tears away with the back of his hand as he moved through rooms both used and abandoned. It was hard being back here, and yet it was almost easy in the same way. He felt the conflicting emotions as he remembered Sirius in both grief and happiness. The memories he replayed through his mind not serving to tug viciously at his heartstrings at they usually did, but instead filled him with a longing, bitter and lonely but suddenly and scarily not as wholly consuming as it once was. 

Biting his lip in the indecision of his feelings, Harry finally dared brave the way to Sirius’- _their_ \- bedroom. Feet dragging across the thick carpets leading the way until he stood before the closed door, fingers wrapped around the doorknob, sweaty and cold but unable to twist the knob, to push the door open and step into the room that held the most memories for him, the ones that would hurt the most no doubt he mused as he thought of the large bed, the mirror, the smell, the layout.

_…Sirius lying sprawled on the bed, Harry’s head pillowed on his stomach… hogging the blankets… licking cuts and cutting skin… moans and screams and whimpers of want… pleasuring Sirius for the first time of many…_

The door opened before him. The air heavy and oppressive as he stepped into the dust-laden room. The curtains still hastily drawn, the bed only half-made. Clothes left pooled on the floor. Left exactly as it had been on Sirius’ last morning within. It was surprising. Disconcerting. Knowing that no one had been into this room since Sirius. 

He blinked the tears from his eyes, but they would not be so easily dissuaded as he moved about the room daring to trace his finger through the layer of dust atop his chest of drawers, to touch timidly at the hairbrush lying on the table, strands of hair still caught between the bristles, the indent on the pillow that still smelled like him if Harry pressed his face into it, breathing deeply the scent he knew was lost forever to him. 

He dropped the pillow with a cry, his tears coming more heavily now, turning to sobs, his breath coming in hiccups of heartache as he sunk to the floor, drawing his knees to his to his chest and burying his face in his arms as he rocked himself to and fro. In his mind he wished that Sirius was there with him, with his arms wrapped around him, hushing him and telling him to stop being so silly, that he wasn’t really gone, that he’d always be around for him. 

But even as he wished it and thought it, Harry too realised how futile such wants were. Sirius was dead. He knew it. But now, sitting here in the man’s room, it felt as if a part of him had just died. The part of him still carrying a candle of hope that this was all just a bad dream was suddenly snuffed out. And it hurt. And it healed. And he cried so desperately over it, his mind and body in turmoil as he dropped his hands to fist in the carpet, raised them again to cover his face, to grab at his hair and hold himself in a pained grip that nevertheless sought to ground him at least a little. 

He wasn’t completely sure where the razorblade came from, or even when he’d found and picked it up into his hands. The haze of grief clouding his mind had changed, no longer all consuming and mourning the loss of Sirius, Harry felt almost as if he were now mourning the loss of mourning for Sirius. 

The corner of the razor dug lazily into the flesh of his left arm- _when had he removed his robes?_ \- lightly retracing the thick and jagged slivers of scars that made up his deceased lover’s name. 

_Oh, Sirius_! The thin, barely scraping cuts stung without drawing blood, helping to clear his mind and tears, but still not enough to appease the feeling of loss and despair that had taken over him. Where once he felt consumed with grief for Sirius, he suddenly felt as if that was being stripped from him, as if Sirius was leaving him… again… but now instead of the raw emotions he felt, things seemed almost mellow in comparison. 

What was happening? Harry couldn’t get his mind around the turmoil taking place in both his heart and mind. Something’s wrong! His heart screamed to him. Everything’s okay! His mind countered. 

There was blood on his fingers. The razor dragging across the flesh of his wrist now. The welling of blood hypnotic, welcomed, serving to take the confusion away and replacing it with the sting of pain as his brain caught up with what his eyes were seeing and his hands were doing. The slit wasn’t deep. The slits weren’t deep. He wasn’t sure when one became many. He wasn’t sure how long he sat, leaning back against the bed, tracing his veins with the razorblade. He wasn’t sure when his sobs calmed down and his tears dried up. He wasn’t sure when Remus knocked at the door or called his name, coming to awareness only when the werewolf’s hands were suddenly on his own, picking the razor from between his fingers and throwing it to the ground, his hand wrapping about Harry’s arms as the boy tensed, freezing in instinctual fear at being caught.

“I’m sorry,” he blurted, heart lodging somewhere in the vicinity of his throat. He tugged at his arms, panic threatening to set in when Remus’ grip tightened, refusing to release them, sharp eyes focussed on the seeping cuts before flicking up to Harry’s face, seeing the hesitance and uncertainty in his eyes and knowing that he was a fool to have let the boy roam the rooms of Grimmauld Place himself.

“Don’t be mad,” Harry whispered when Remus continued to stare at him, breaking the werewolf from his thoughts and softening his expression. 

“I’m not mad, Harry,” He replied, loosening his hold on the boy’s arms, seating himself on the floor before Harry as he removed his wand and began to cast the charms to stop the blood flow from his wounds. Harry eyed him carefully, cradling his arms to his chest when Remus finally released them to rub at his eyes a moment before once again turning his gaze to Harry.

He reached out to touch at the boy’s flushed face, brushing against the trail of dried tear tracks that stained the flushed cheeks, smiling sadly when Harry lowered his head even as he leaned into the touch.

“Do you want to tell me about it?” Remus asked softly, stroking at Harry’s cheek, hoping that the boy would open up to him, sensing that it was something he needed to do, especially now with being back in this house, memories now so fresh in his mind that they were almost real once again. 

“It’s this house…” Harry began stiltedly, “Being back here… it’s not, I don’t… I love Sirius, Remus,” He tried to sort his words out, “I miss him terribly. But it’s, being here it doesn’t hurt like it’s supposed to, I- I’m not supposed to… I don’t even want to, but everything’s changing… it’s not…” he made a noise of irritation at being unable to articulate his words. “I don’t know how to feel, Moony,” He moaned, looking up to Remus’ face, his own twisted with anguish.

“It’s okay to be confused, cub,” Remus drew the boy into his arms, sitting Harry in his lap and cradling him to his chest. Though the location was decidedly different than the one they were both used to, the situation was familiar, to Remus at least as he carded his fingers through Harry’s hair as the boy leaned against his chest. He bent his head to press a lingering kiss to the top of Harry’s head.

“It’ll get better soon, Harry.” Remus said, “You’ll always love Sirius, you’ll always remember him, but one day when you think of him it’ll be only with fondness and sadness,” He brushed another kiss across Harry’s head, “You won’t feel like this forever. He can’t hold onto your heart like this forever. You have to let him go, you know.” 

“How?” The boy breathed, trembling in his arms. But Remus wasn’t entirely sure of the answer himself as he squeezed Harry against him, holding him tightly as if afraid that he’d lose him should he let go.

\- - -

**To Be Continued…?**   
_Well not only is this chapter long overdue, but I found it seriously hard to get right. I fear that the flow may be off as a result but hope that’s only my paranoia talking since Aurora seems to like it, though I doubt it. Eek. At least with ‘Christmas’ officially starting in next chapter, things will be looking up both plot wise and writing wise (and I promise I won’t make you wait so long for a chapter again! I fear Aurora will kill me herself if I even think about it!)  
Another thing to note is that I come bearing news of sidefics! Isn’t that exciting? Because you people reading and reviewing have now got us over the 300review mark (on HPFandom) Aurora and myself have completed a side fic each [[Don't Leave](http://www.hpfandom.net/eff/viewstory.php?sid=4863) and [Bitterblue](http://www.hpfandom.net/eff/viewstory.php?sid=4864)] for your reading pleasure as a thank you, because as you should all be aware, BR most probably wouldn’t have gotten as far as it has without you guys!   
Thanks to everyone who has reviewed/will review, it really does help keep us in the groove!  
Peace,  
CS WhiteWolf  
 ___

__\- - -_ _

__

____


	50. Chapter L

  
Author's notes: "You're beyond now- redemption, and no one's going to catch you when you fall." Harry’s back at Hogwarts. His allegiances are wavering. It’s only a matter of time…  
[Slash, self-harm, eating disorders, drug use… AU5]  


* * *

** Beyond Redemption **   
_By Sisters of Darkness_

\- - -

For this Chapter:

**Rating(s)** : NC17.  
 **Pairing(s)** : Draco Malfoy/ Lucius Malfoy.   
**Warning(s)** : Adult Language; Hints at Self-Harm; Drug Use; Incest; Sexual Situations.

\- - -

**Chapter L**   
_Aurora Enkeli Medeis_

**S** leeping on Christmas Eve, for Draco at least, was usually a thing of ease. At heart, beneath the drug addiction and the self-harm, Draco was just an over-sized child, bouncing in anticipation. He would always drift quickly into an untroubled sleep, waking in excitement around 6 o’clock the next morning. 

This year however hadn’t been quite as simple.

It was at least three am by the time Draco had finally fallen into a fitful sleep, tossing and turning beneath the sheets. He’d awoken with a start only a few hours after falling asleep, a cold sweat beading on his forehead. As he panted for breath, Draco tried to remember what it was that had woken him, what his dream could have been about to cause such a reaction.

He groaned as his mind finally caught up with how little sleep he had had, flooding his head with a fuzzy, groggy sensation as he flopped back to the mattress. He rubbed at his eyes, looking round to squint at the face of the clock. It was nearing six o’clock, which meant he had a good few hours to enjoy his family’s company before Potter and the werewolf showed up. Draco scratched at the back of his head as he sat up, swinging his legs out the bed. He pushed the covers back, standing up slowly.

Accepting Potter into the IC was all well and good, but sharing merriment over turkey and gravy was a completely different game of Quidditch. Draco padded across his thick bedroom carpet, the movement-sensitive light charm activating as he entered his en-suite bathroom. His feet slapped lightly on the tiles as he yawned, kneeling down at the sink, reaching around it and pressing at the tile, watching it come loose and reveal the door of the Muggle safe.

He entered the combination and it opened. Inside the safe sat the miniscule bag of cocaine that Severus had given him to get him through the first few days of the Christmas holidays. So far, he hadn’t touched it, a fact that he was almost secretly proud of. Gripping the edge of the sink, Draco pulled himself to his feet and padded back through to his bedroom, casting the charm to light the room up softly. Sitting down casually at a long, polished mahogany dressing table, he poured a small amount out of the bag. There was only enough for a few lines and Draco was sure he would want it later in the day so, making a sensible decision for once, he only pushed it into one line and scooped any excess back into the bag, lest it be wasted. 

Bending his head, he snorted up the line, wiping his nose as he sat back and yawned. Draco smiled wryly- if there was anything that ever symbolised his nonchalance towards his drugs it was yawning after snorting a line of cocaine. Fastening the bag shut, he wandered back through to the bathroom and put it back in the safe, shutting it and the tile over.

Draco sniffed, wiping his nose as he picked a set of dark green house robes up from a chair. Although his room was still warm, he knew that the manor corridors would be cold and drafty so he shrugged the robes onto his shoulders, not bothering to tie them. Sure enough, as he opened the door of his bedroom the chill hit him, goose bumps prickling over his bare chest. Even the carpet was cool under his feet as he walked quickly along the corridor and up a back staircase that emerged nearer his parent’s bedroom than the main staircase.

When he reached the door, he turned the handle slowly, pushing it open the smallest amount and sliding in quietly. It clicked shut behind him and he tiptoed across the room.

“You’re awake later than usual, Draco,” Lucius whispered. Draco smirked as he crept over to the king sized bed where his parents were lying.

“It still amazes me,” Narcissa said, “that he creeps in thinking that we would still be sleeping as opposed to waiting for him to come in.”

Draco clambered up over the end of the bed, wedging his way between his parents before flopping to the mattress. 

“Aren’t you going to get up then?” Draco asked, not so subtly nudging his father to get out the bed. Lucius simply pulled the covers higher up onto his shoulders.

“No,” he replied plainly. Draco huffed.

“Yes, we will,” Narcissa began, sliding the covers off and sitting up slowly, “but not until I have had a wash and done something about my hair,” she finished, getting up from the bed and disappearing into the en-suite.

Draco slid onto his mother’s side of the bed, turning onto his side to look over at his father in the darkness. Lucius’ breathing was coming at a steady pace and Draco assumed that he had fallen back asleep.

He slipped under the thick duvet, moving over so that his chest was pressed against Lucius’ back. With a gentle hand on his father’s hip, Draco gave him a subtle pull to lie on his back and a slight smirk crept over his lips in the darkness. There was a sleepy grunt of protest but other than that, Lucius didn’t stir. 

Draco sat up, throwing his leg over his father’s, wedging his way between strong, pale thighs. Lucius’ head tossed in his sleep, long strands of hair falling over his face. Draco grinned wickedly as he pulled himself up onto his knees, leaning his head down, lips barely brushing his father’s abdomen. Lucius twitched as the ends of Draco’s hair tickled his skin, lips moving lower as steady fingers pulled down black boxers. 

Lucius moaned softly as a kiss was placed on the juncture between his hip and thigh. Draco trailed his fingertips along Lucius’ cock, following the path with his lips. Groaning, Lucius laced his fingers through Draco’s hair.

“Awake again, I see,” Draco mumbled, flicking his tongue over the tip of his father’s prick.

“Hmm,” was Lucius’ reply as he urged Draco to do more.

Draco wrapped his mouth around the head of Lucius’ cock, sucking lightly and flicking his tongue out. He lowered his head, taking more of the length into his mouth before he pulled back up, tongue dragging up the underside. Lucius moaned, hips rising off the mattress as his fingers tightened their grip on Draco’s hair. 

Draco wrapped the thumb and index finger off his left hand around the base of his father’s cock as he slid his own hand into his pyjama bottoms, pulling at his own erection. Draco sped up his mouth, moving it in time with his hand. Lucius thrust his hips, fucking Draco’s mouth as post-sleep grogginess was replaced with sex induced fuzziness. 

Draco let his mouth be fucked, moaning around the length, even when it struck the back of his throat. Another few quick strokes had him moaning again, hot seed spilling over his closed hand. Draco wiped his hand on the inside of his pyjama bottoms and sucked on his father’s cock with fervour until, with a long groan, Lucius’ hips stilled as he spilt his release. The liquid coated the back of Draco’s throat and he struggled not to choke as he swallowed it down, pulling away with an unpleasant slurping sound.

Lucius gently pulled Draco upwards, wrapping an arm around his shoulders as he leaned upwards to capture his son’s lips. Draco let out a quiet whimper as Lucius flicked his tongue over Draco’s bottom lip, nipping at it softly. Draco’s lips parted, tongue sliding out and moving over his father’s in a slow, languid kiss. 

Lucius carded his fingers through Draco’s hair as they pulled apart. Draco rolled back onto the mattress as Lucius re-adjusted his boxers, turning onto his side and running a hand across Draco’s collarbone. He leant in, pressing an open mouthed kiss to the side of Draco’s lips, lingering there for a moment.

“Merry Christmas, dragon,” he whispered. 

Draco sighed and rolled onto his back, one arm thrown over his chest.

“Merry Christmas, father… at least it will be for another few hours.”

Lucius let out a sarcastic tut as he sat up and looked down at his son.

“Now, Draco, I thought you were planning on behaving today?” he asked as he threw off the covers. Draco rolled his eyes and was about to respond when the door on the en-suite opened.

“He _will_ be behaving,” Narcissa said as she stepped out the bathroom, her long blond hair pinned up in a glittering silver clasp.

Draco sat up, resisting the urge to point out that he wasn’t a five year old, even if his inner Severus was pointing out many contradictions to the point.

“Can we go downstairs yet?” Draco asked instead, pulling the covers off. Both Narcissa and Lucius rolled their eyes and shared a smile.

“Yes we can,” Lucius said, “but breakfast first.”

“Breakfast first?” Draco asked with a raised eyebrow as he stood up. Lucius went to reply when Narcissa beat him to it.

“Lucius, we have had this discussion every year since Draco learned to talk and you have yet to win,” she said plainly, stepping elegantly across the room and opening the door, “come on, Draco,” she said, casting a look over her shoulder at her husband.

Draco smirked as he left the room, leaving Lucius to follow with a roll of his eyes as he pulled his robes onto his shoulders.

\- - -

By the time the three of them had reached the living room and the mass of presents residing there had been opened, primarily by Draco, it was nearing ten o’clock. Two house elves were wading through ponds of ripped paper as Narcissa sipped a cup of tea, Lucius sliced up a pastry and Draco flipped through a large, rare book about dark potions that he had been looking at back in the summer.

The clock in the corner of the room chimed for ten o’clock and Draco looked up from his book as Narcissa sat her cup down on its saucer.

“It will only be a few hours until our guests arrive,” she said, standing up from her chair, “if anyone needs me, I’ll be getting ready,” she swept out the room, her footsteps echoing on the hardwood floor. Draco frowned.

“Won’t that be a little early for Christmas dinner?” he asked, looking round at his father. 

“I believe some degree of… socialising and small talk is planned for this afternoon,” Lucius replied, not bothering to disguise the disdainful curve of his upper lip. Draco made a similar facial expression.

“Won’t that be delightful?” he asked sarcastically. Lucius simply gave a ‘hmm’ in response as he unfolded his Daily Prophet. Draco sat his book down with the rest of his presents and stood up.

“You will behave today, Draco. Especially with the Dark Lord paying us a visit,” Lucius said, not looking up from his paper. Draco was about to turn and leave when a thought struck him.

“Does Potter know that the Dark Lord is joining us?” he asked. Lucius couldn’t stop the twitch of his mouth as he looked up over the top of his paper.

“I was told to inform Severus who would in turn tell the were… Professor Lupin,” he said nonchalantly. Draco raised an eyebrow.

“And did you?” 

“It may have,” Lucius met Draco’s gaze, “slipped my mind.”

Neither Malfoy could stop the almost identical smirks that crept over their faces. Draco forced his expression to straighten.

“How awful,” Draco said, his eyes alight.

“Indeed,” Lucius replied, going back to reading his paper. 

Draco turned on his heel, opening the door and leaving the room, feeling the slightest bit better about the next few hours.

\- - -

**To Be Continued…?**   
_A/N: Fuck shit bollocks bastard dirty fucking swollen toe!_  
Eh hem, right now that is out my system I can move on. This chapter took awhile for two reasons- 1) real life has gone to bollocks as I’m now at University five days a week and working the other two days and 2) this chapter really did suck cock. I know it was short and shite and did not make up for any sort of delay but my next chapter (the first of Christmas dinner!) will make up for the utterly piss nature of this pathetic excuse for a …thing.  
Real life is just straightening itself into a sort of routine so hopefully we can get back to two chapters a week.   
Kisses and erm …a lot of swearing,  
Rora. 

\- - -


	51. Chapter LI

  
Author's notes: "You're beyond now- redemption, and no one's going to catch you when you fall." Harry’s back at Hogwarts. His allegiances are wavering. It’s only a matter of time…  
[Slash, self-harm, eating disorders, drug use… AU5]  


* * *

** Beyond Redemption **   
_By Sisters of Darkness_

\- - -

For this Chapter:

**Rating(s)** : R-Rated.  
 **Pairing(s)** : Mentions of Harry Potter/Sirius Black.  
 **Warning(s)** : Mild Mention of an Eating Disorder.

\- - -

**Chapter LI**   
_By CS WhiteWolf_

**F** or Harry, Christmas had never really been anything special. He’d never celebrated it before his first year at Hogwarts where his first ever friends had made the day as joyous and memorable as the holiday was meant to be. Come the Christmas of his sixth year however and Harry was already wishing the holiday to hell as he lay in his bed, the covers pulled up to his chin against the chill of his room, unable to sleep no matter how often he tossed and turned, eyes itching with sleep denied as he replayed images of last year’s Christmas through his mind, already comparing it to how this year’s would turn out. 

Last Christmas with Sirius had perhaps been the best Christmas since that of his first year. 

Breathing in heavily through his nose, Harry yawned deeply, his eyes watering at the action. He turned onto his back once more, staring up at the ceiling before him, eyes tracing along the cracks and grooves in the darkened room. He’s snuck into Sirius’ room ever so early last Christmas, his cold feet awakening the man who- as much as he grumbled about the intrusion- had held him close, pressing the cold tip of his nose to Harry’s neck, grinning roguishly as Harry had squeaked and tried to pull away. Their actions turning so naturally from playful to sexual that it still made Harry ache, body and soul, to think on it; the way Sirius had allowed Harry to hold him down and ravish his mouth, how Sirius had taught him, guided him, encouraged him as Harry had finally- _oh gods, Sirius! Oh!_ \- _finally_ taken Sirius as his own.

The water in his eyes leaked out, running down his temples and into his hairline even as he blinked his eyelids heavily in an attempt to banish the tears. How could this year ever measure up to the gift Sirius had given him? Though the man had never said ‘I love you’ in words (at least not when Harry was consciously awake enough to hear them), Sirius had said them at least in his actions. And really, didn’t actions speak louder than words? No matter how much his heart ached to hear Sirius profess his love he knew it to be true, and in the end, that was really all that mattered. Wasn’t it? 

A sickly feeling began to build in his stomach, his heartbeat increasing as a feeling of overwhelming and unjustifiable panic came over him. Harry pushed himself upwards, his body wracked with sudden shivers that had little to do with the chill permeating his bed-warmed skin. Shakily, he pushed himself to his feet, bile creeping up his throat and his stomach cramping as he stumbled to the door, making his way towards the bathroom whereupon he proceeded to retch dryly into the toilet. He’d eaten little that day despite Remus’ urgings and now he was paying the price as his stomach tried to throw something- _anything_ , up. 

A sweat both hot and cold swept over him, spots dancing before his eyes as he pressed his forehead first to the porcelain of the toilet seat and then to the cool tiles of the bathroom floor. His mind was a whir of confusion, white noise washing through his ears as he hugged himself, small whimpers passing unheeded from his lips as he lay upon the floor for seconds too short before strong hands were tugging him up into the warmth of a lap, arms wrapping about his shivering body and words incomprehensible flew over his head. 

He couldn’t seem to think straight, couldn’t comprehend what was happening to him, what had happened, why he’d reacted like this and to at what point he had acted at all. 

“Remus?” He breathed the name, a pant of breath as a cold feeling washed over him, passing slowly and taking with it the faintness. 

“I’m here cub,” Remus stroked his bangs from his face, cradling Harry against his chest. His voice was scratchy with sleep and Harry felt a sting of guilt at having woken the werewolf. The thought was fleeting only as Remus manoeuvred him in his arms until he was able to pick Harry and presumably return him to his bed. Harry wasn’t entirely sure however as he closed his eyes, intending only to blink. 

Ironic that sleep sought to claim him now.

\- - -

Blearily, Harry opened his eyes, squinting against the dawning brightness of the room His mind was a mesh of sleepy thoughts and dreams that drifted away faster than he could hold onto them. He felt strangely hollow as the last segments of sleep finally flittered from his brain, waking enough for him to realise that it was Christmas morning. Just an ordinary day really. A pang in his chest told him otherwise as he rolled onto his back, fingers rubbing at eyes that felt puffy and stung still with tiredness. He tried not to think of Sirius. 

Rolling out of bed and fumbling around for a pair of slippers and a jumper, Harry slowly made his way down the stairs, heading in the direction of the kitchen. He wasn’t sure if Remus would be up yet- a quick glance at his watch having confirmed that it was just past seven. He made his way slowly through the house, as always his emotions being rubbed red raw at the trek from room to room, and yet, it no longer felt as if he were slicing his heart open every time he so much as though about Sirius. 

The pain was still there, still throbbing and aching away, but now, instead of bleeding inwardly at every little reminder of his godfather, Harry was smiling a little more instead- watery and fleeting as the wry twist of his lips was.

Reaching the bottom of the stairs, Harry paused as the sound of voices reached his ears. He frowned, wondering who on earth could be visiting at this time in the morning, a sick feeling of dread building as his mind jumped to the conclusion that the Weasleys and Hermione had decided to come for Christmas despite his wanting them not to. 

He could make out Remus voice as the werewolf spoke unguardedly causing Harry to relax a little, knowing that Remus wouldn’t sound so open if they had unwanted guests. Cautiously inching his way closer, Harry was suddenly left with no doubts as to who was sitting in the kitchen with Remus- his thudding heart launching into his throat as Snape’s rich baritone touched his ears. 

Christmas with Remus was one thing. Christmas with Snape was an entirely different matter. He knew he’d be having Christmas dinner with the Malfoys and Snape, but was he to have to share the morning with the Potions Master too? 

Harry bit his lip, raising his hand to knock upon the door to the kitchen before slowly pushing it open- he’d had far to many run-ins with entering closed doors by now to know never to enter without first having knocked. He didn’t fancy spoiling his appetite this morning before he’d even begun, though the thoughts of whatever Snape and Remus could be up to in the kitchen weren’t as sickening as he once would have thought them to be. 

Entering the room, Harry’s eyes flittered over its two occupants who were sat at either end of the table drinking tea. Severus graced him with nod as Remus got to his feet, moving over to Harry and wrapping him into a hug, a ‘Merry Christmas’ being whispered into his ear before he was pushed into a chair and a fresh mug of tea placed in his hands.

Harry blinked at Remus managing a weak ‘thank you’ as he watched the werewolf rush off towards a nearby counter and return with a bowl of hot porridge and a nutritional potion. Harry groaned slightly at the sight of the green potion, his thoughts flashing back to the happenings of the night before. He could vaguely recall heaving over the toilet bowl and later being held by Remus as he’d falling into sleep, but really, it hadn’t had anything to do with not having eaten the day before. We’ll not much, he was used to going without food for longer periods of time. 

“I’m alright, Moony,” He managed to get out, swirling the porridge around with his spoon, watching the sprinkle of sugar as it melted into the white substance. 

Remus merely took a sip of his tea, eyeing Harry over the rim and choosing not to reply to that comment. From the corner of his eye, Harry could see a trace of amusement in Snape’s face as the man watched the proceedings with his dark eyes. 

“It wasn’t because of that,” He said, lowering his eyes to the food before him and dropping the spoon with a clink as he reached for his tea instead. He shifted slightly beneath the joint gazes of Snape and Remus as they watched him carefully.

After a long moment of silence, which was both awkward and yet not so, Severus placed his mug down on the table, pushing his chair back and standing. 

“I think I’ll take my leave now, Lupin.” Snape began, “I’ll allow you and Harry to enjoy your morning together before we leave for Malfoy Manor.” 

Remus stood too, shooting Harry a quick glance before turning back to Severus, “If you’re sure-,”

“I shall return for you this afternoon,” Severus interrupted, already moving towards the fireplace. Harry swallowed a scalding sip of tea as he watched Remus follow his Professor. He didn’t feel the way the liquid burnt its way down his throat as the realisation that Severus had no one to spend Christmas with came over him. 

He shot a look towards the fireplace, standing swiftly as he saw Remus step away from Snape, his shoulders slumping ever so slightly. 

“Won’t you stay, Professor?” Harry called over, the words out of his mouth before he’d even truly thought to speak them. He stood tense, on a precipice of indecision, unsure whether he wanted Snape to stay or go. He weighed up the pros and cons in his mind, swallowing thickly as Snape focussed intently on him. 

Harry almost expected the man to brush against his thoughts but was thankful when Snape made no such attempt. 

“I do not wish to intrude of your Christmas, Mr Potter.” Severus said simply in reply, the quaffle thrown back into his side of the pitch. 

Harry wet his lips, flickering his gaze between Snape and Remus. The hopeful look in the latter’s eyes was enough reason for Harry to shake his head. “It would be no intrusion, Professor- Severus,” The name rolled awkwardly from his tongue but he continued unheeding of it, “I… I’d like for you to stay. I’m sure Remus won’t mind?” 

Snape looked hesitant now and not a little confused. He wasn’t the only one though. Harry was wondering himself what on earth he was thinking. But he saw Remus’ smile as he told Severus he didn’t mind in the slightest if he stayed, and would in fact love for him too. And Harry knew that even if he couldn’t spend Christmas with his lover, there was no reason why Remus could not. 

At least if Snape stayed, Harry knew also that he would not be able to compare this year to his last. There was no way one could compare a day spent with Sirius to a day spent with Snape, and Remus. And if he was to spend the afternoon with the Malfoy family, why not start off the day with Snape? 

He stopped trying to analyse his reasoning when Severus gave a jerked nod of his head, “Very well then,” He said, “I shall stay.” 

Harry sat down again, hiding an unexpected smile around a mouthful of porridge. Remus’ muttered thank you as he sat back at the table and Snape’s commenting to him to mind and drink his potion had Harry thinking that perhaps, this year, Christmas wouldn’t be too unbearable. 

It was bound to be interesting in the very least, considering that he was to spend half of it in Malfoy Manor- a place he’d never dreamed of seeing, especially not with all three Malfoy’s in attendance. He was thankful however that there had been no mention of the Dark Lord coming for dinner. He didn’t think he’d be able to sit in the same room as the serpentine man after everything they had been through with each other, no matter that he’d consented to joining the Inner Circle. It was still too soon for Harry Potter and Voldemort to meet. 

\- - -

**To Be Continued…?**   
_Well I think we all know by now just how exciting Christmas at Malfoy Manor is going to be, so aren’t you all so pleased to know that the long-awaited meeting of the IC will be in the next chapter of Beyond Redemption!? I know I am! We have some thrilling stuff to come and gosh, not many chapters left of Part I in which to squeeze them all into! Remember reviews help stimulate our perverted little minds and are bound to get you chapters out sooner than later._  
I realise we’ve been a bit off with updates these last few weeks but with me (CS WhiteWolf) starting a fulltime job and Aurora now juggling Uni and part-time job, we’ll we’ve not exactly much free time anymore. But we’ve had a chat and will be meeting up again soon to start the planning for Part II of BR, and have decided that we will get our updates back to between 2/3 times a week if it kills us! :D  
So please review folks and we hope to be updating again soon!  
Peace,  
CS WhiteWolf  


\- - -


	52. Chapter LII

  
Author's notes: "You're beyond now- redemption, and no one's going to catch you when you fall." Harry’s back at Hogwarts. His allegiances are wavering. It’s only a matter of time…  
[Slash, self-harm, eating disorders, drug use… AU5]  


* * *

** Beyond Redemption **   
_By Sisters of Darkness_

\- - -

For this Chapter:

**Rating(s)** : R-Rated.  
 **Pairing(s)** : Mild Draco/Lucius; Mentions of Lucius/Narcissa, Severus/Remus   
**Warning(s)** : Adult Language; Hints at Self-Harm; Mentions of Drug Use; Hints at Alcoholism.

\- - -

**Chapter LII**   
_Aurora Enkeli Medeis_

**D** raco stared at himself in the full-length mirror, rolling his eyes as it whistled appreciatively. He was wearing black dress robes, the ornate silver fastenings gleaming in the light of the bedroom. Smoothing out non-existent creases in the front of his robes, Draco turned as was a knock sounded at his door.

“Come in,” he said before looking back into the mirror, smoothing down the front of his hair.

“Your hair is sitting fine, Draco,” Lucius said as he stepped behind his son. Lucius’ robes were also black, only more elaborate than his son’s, collared and cuffed with silver silk.

“I know,” Draco replied, dropping his hands to his side. He glanced up at the clock. “Are they here yet?” He asked, not bothering to hide the disdain in his voice.

“They are, Severus too,” Lucius said, “it would seem he has been with them all day.”

There was a small flair of jealousy flashing in the pit of Draco’s stomach at the thought of Severus spending Christmas morning with Potter and the werewolf. He sighed- he couldn’t blame Severus for it. He loved Lupin and it only made sense that he would want to be with someone he loved on Christmas. Draco snorted, causing Lucius to raise an eyebrow. Draco just shook his head.

“Just some mild amusement at my own rationality,” Draco explained as Lucius wrapped his arms around his waist, pulling Draco in against his chest. Lucius pressed a kiss to Draco’s temple before pulling away.

“They are waiting in the entrance hall,” Lucius said as he gentle urged Draco out the room with a hand on the small of his back. They left the room and walked in sync along the corridor to the top of the grand staircase. 

Several voices drifted up the stairs along with the sound of house elves popping in and out as they whisked outdoor robes away to a small cloakroom.

“There you both are,” Narcissa said as she released Remus’ hand and turned towards the stairs. Draco watched Potter tense, looking anywhere but at Lucius. Of course, Draco realised, this was the first time Potter had seen Lucius since the night in the Department of Mysteries… the night when Lucius had been incarcerated. A small bubble of anger boiled inside Draco but he took a deep breath and ignored it.

“Potter,” he said, giving the bespectacled boy a brief nod. The irony of Potter wearing dark green robes was not lost on Draco.

“Malfoy,” Potter replied with an equally as curt nod.

“Professor Lupin,” Draco said, turning to the werewolf.

“Draco,” Lupin replied politely, “Merry Christmas.”

“Thank you,” Draco managed to reply before turning to Severus. He took a few steps towards the Potions Master, wrapping his arms around the dark haired mans waist. Severus’ arms draped over Draco’s shoulders, pulling him close as the blond kissed him softly on the neck.

“Merry Christmas, Severus,” Draco muttered against Severus’ neck. Severus exhaled softly.

“Merry Christmas, Draco.”

They pulled apart and Draco resisted the urge to smile softly up at Severus.

“This is from Harry and me,” Remus said to Narcissa as he handed over what was clearly a bottle of something. Draco watched his mother smile gracefully; surprised to see it wasn’t the fake smile of politeness she normally gave people. The whole world was going mad in Draco’s opinion.

“Why, thank you, Remus,” she replied, turning to Potter, “and thank you Harry,” she finished politely. Harry smiled at her, seeming more at ease with her than many others in the room. Not that this surprised Draco- Narcissa Malfoy could be shockingly motherly at times. Severus extracted three packages from inside his robes, enlarging them with a flick of his wand.

“For you, Narcissa,” he said, handing a small box to her, she thanked him before he turned to Lucius, handing him a rather large rectangular package without a word. Lucius looked at it, quirking an eyebrow as his eyes flicked back to Severus. The Potions Master smirked slightly and Lucius gave him a look of amused understanding. Having seen similar situations take place since he was old enough to see shapes, Draco thought nothing of it but saw the way Potter was watching the interaction with interest. Lupin on the other hand was doing a pathetic job at hiding the possessiveness that was sparking in his amber eyes. 

This amused Draco greatly. He wondered what Lupin’s problem with Lucius was. After all, he didn’t seem to have any problem with Severus being with Draco or Potter for that matter. Maybe, Draco pondered, there was some sort of alpha-male battle silently taking place in a shower of quiet testosterone. Or maybe Lupin was simply a jealous mutt, Draco couldn’t be sure.

“And Draco,” Severus said, causing Draco to blink out of his musings as a present was handed to him. He took the parcel happily, giving it a brief shake and a squeeze. Severus rolled his eyes and shook his head slightly.

“Are you six, or sixteen, Draco?” He asked sarcastically. Draco glared half-heartedly as the present was taken from him before he could open it. He was about to protest when a house elf was summoned by his mother to put the presents aside for opening later.

“If you will follow me, Christmas dinner will be served shortly,” Narcissa said, mostly to Lupin and Potter as they were the ones who didn’t know where on earth they were going. Draco fell into step behind Potter and Lupin, his father and Severus behind him, talking quietly. Draco felt a smug sense of self-satisfaction at the way Potter was unable to conceal his interest and awe at his surroundings. 

The double doors of the large dining room swung open as they reached them. The walls of the room were panelled with a dark wood that gleamed with an orange shade under the candlelight. The floor was covered with a shiny grey marble and on it sat a long, polished table trimmed in silver. High backed chairs sat around the table, several of the carved details highlighted in silver. The chairs at either end were slightly bigger than the others and Lucius promptly seated himself in one of them. Narcissa sat down on the right of him, Draco on the left with Severus beside him. Potter sat down at his assigned spot beside Narcissa, and Remus sat down on the other side of him, leaving the chair at the end opposite to Lucius ominously empty.

A small door in the corner of the room slid open and five house elves paraded out, large silver platters carried above their heads, almost concealing them from view. Knobbly fingers snapped a number of times, levitating the plates up onto the table. Draco resisted the urge to screw up his face and the sudden smell of so much food. He looked over to see the Potter wasn’t doing a good job of trying not to look positively ill. 

All but one of the elves disappeared, the one that was left to conjure two jugs, one filled with water, the other with pumpkin juice- and two bottles of wine onto the table. It then popped away as Narcissa stood up.

“Wine, Remus?” she asked, indicating to the bottles of red and white. He nodded slowly.

“Red, please Narcissa,” he replied, thanking her as she poured it into his glass.

“Red I assume, Severus?” the Potions Master nodded and Narcissa poured it. Without a word she filled Lucius’ glass, a sour expression on her face. Draco noticed that there was also a half drunk glass of whisky beside his father. She sat down, pouring herself a glass of white wine.

“Draco, perhaps you could pour yourself and Potter some pumpkin juice?” She asked, although Draco knew it was nothing like a question. He nodded, tipping some into his own glass then standing up from his chair to pour some for Potter.

“Thanks, Malfoy,” Potter said, taking Draco by surprise. Hellos and goodbyes were fine, a thanks was odd. Draco nodded nonetheless.

“You’re welcome.”

He sat down, neither him nor Potter noticing the look that the adults at the table exchanged. Progress, that’s what they were all probably thinking. Draco would be the last to admit that they were right.

A rather awkward air hung over the room as everyone sipped their drinks, not wanting to be the first to delve into the food. Draco heard his mother give a soft sigh as she sat down her glass and took the spoon from the platter of potatoes.

“Harry,” she said, causing the Gryffindor to jump. She held out the spoon in offering and he nodded politely. Draco saw Lupin give Severus a look, before his amber eyes flicked briefly to Draco. Potter was not likely to eat what was on his plate.

Very quickly, everyone else followed suit, helping themselves to bits of turkey, heaps of vegetables, piles of potatoes and lashings of gravy. Conversation was not easy but Narcissa managed to engage several comments, many of them from Lupin to whom she seemed to relate to for reasons Draco couldn’t fathom. 

The sound of cutlery slicing along porcelain resounded around the dining room as Draco stared down at his plate. He had been eating better, not well, but better. That didn’t mean he wanted to tackle this mound of Christmas food. Draco looked up through his hair to see Potter staring down at his own plate. He was pushing around a potato, cutting it up into miniscule pieces. He looked around the table without even lifting his head. His eyes met Draco’s and for the shortest of moments they had a real connection. Not forced civility because they had to. Not one-word greetings in dark, empty classrooms but a sudden and profound sharing of the situation. Neither of them wanted to eat much, if any, of the food, but they both knew they would suffer a severe talking to if they didn’t.

Draco stabbed a piece of turkey and slipped it into his mouth, chewing slowly and only screwing his face up a little. The corner of Potter’s mouth quirked a little and he followed suit, popping the tiniest piece of vegetable into his mouth and forcing himself to chew. He sat back in his chair, frowning as he swallowed. Potter sat down his fork, rubbing his forehead a little. Draco almost smiled- this was it. 

Out the corner of his eye, Draco saw Severus look up at Potter. Lupin also looked at Potter a frown on his face. Looking to his mother, Draco saw her give Lucius an odd look, which he ignored in favour of taking a long mouthful of wine. Narcissa’s eyes went wide for a moment before she glared at him. Lucius avoided his wife’s gaze, reaching down to the glass of whisky. Before he could pick it up, Narcissa had clamped her hand over the top of it. This time he looked up at her, glaring as she snatched the glass away.

Potter scratched at his scar again, giving Lupin a quizzical look. 

“I will go and greet our guest, shall I?” Narcissa said through clenched teeth as she stood up and swept out the room.

Potter’s eyes went wide and he shook his head, his gaze never moving from Lupin. Lupin, on the other hand, looked over at Severus, his expression somewhere between anger and a question of “What the hell is going on?”. Severus shook his head slowly before turning dark eyes onto Lucius. Lupin did the same, watching as Lucius reached to the farthest side of Narcissa’s plate, taking back his glass of whisky. Draco sat back in his chair, sipping his pumpkin juice and watching as the disaster unfolded. For once, he really couldn’t be blamed. This time, it was his father who would be in trouble for causing problems.

Potter stood up but Lupin caught his wrist.

“It’s okay, Harry,” Draco heard him mutter soothingly. Potter shook his head.

“It isn’t, Remus, it’s not,” he replied. Lupin hushed him, urging him back to his chair. Potter let himself be pulled back down, his face chalk white and his eyes wide. Lucius downed the last of his whisky, sitting down his glass just as the doors opened. Draco stopped glaring at his father as he noticed the tense air that had descended over the room. There was a scraping of chair as Lucius stood up and turned round, inclining his head.

“My Lord,” he said, straightening himself back up and meeting the Dark Lord’s eyes.

“Lucius,” he said, tilting his head a little. His eyes, almost completely green, flicked for a moment to the two drained glasses beside the older Malfoy’s plate. He said nothing as he turned to Draco. 

Draco stood up, his heart beating a little faster than it should have. That wasn’t something new- the Dark Lord had always had a similar effect on him.

“My Lord,” he said, bowing slightly lower than his father had. 

“Draco,” Voldemort replied, running a long, pale finger along Draco’s cheek. His eyes flashed crimson for a moment as he inhaled deeply, looking at Draco’s nose. The younger Malfoy averted his gaze- there was nothing that could be hidden from Voldemort. The Dark Lord moved away as Severus stood up.

“Severus,” the Dark Lord said, his voice hissing around the sibilance of the name. Severus bowed his head.

“My Lord,” Severus replied.

Voldemort swept past them, his long hair and his robes flowing behind him as he turned, seating himself in the chair. His head was held high as his eyes swept over Lupin and Potter. He eyed them but did not say one word. Lucius, Draco and Severus all sat down as Narcissa picked up the bottle of red wine.

“Wine, my Lord?” She asked. Voldemort nodded once and Narcissa stepped around the table, pouring him a glassful. He didn’t thank her but no one expected him to. Curling his fingers around the glass, Voldemort brought it to his lips, sipping it slowly. Draco watched for a moment, entranced as the Dark Lord’s forked tongue flicked out to catch a bead of dark red liquid. 

Draco looked at everyone, wondering who would be the first to speak. It was painfully obvious now that Potter had not been informed of the Dark Lords visit but really, Draco wondered, what on earth did someone do in this situation? He didn’t think that asking the Dark Lord to pass the gravy was really an option.

Potter was staring down at his plate, his hands clenched so tightly that his knuckles were white. Draco watched as the glass beside Potter began to shake, his knife and fork quietly rattling on his plate. Draco was impressed by the power that was bottled up inside the skinny teen and wondered briefly how powerful Potter could be if he were helped to yield that power. The blond almost shivered at the thought. 

Lupin was eyeing Potter warily and Severus’ eyes never left the werewolf. Narcissa was still glaring at her husband who was drinking a freshly poured glass of wine. The Dark Lord did not look perturbed by any of the events and Draco almost snorted with realisation- Voldemort knew even before he arrived that Potter had not been informed of this visit. As the other glasses on the table began to twitch and jingle, Draco took a mouthful of pumpkin juice and licked his lips as he leant in towards his father.

“I suppose it was just as well that Aunt Bella wasn’t coming,” he said quietly.

Lucius’ lips twitched as he tried not to smile. Narcissa moved her glare from her husband to her son. Severus pinched the bridge of his nose as Remus looked at Potter. The Gryffindor was already on his feet and pushing back his chair when he shoved Remus’ hand away. He stepped around his chair but from the look on his face it was obvious that he had just realised he had nowhere to go.

Narcissa stood up, smoothing down her dress as she gave Lucius and Draco one last glare. Softly, she put her arm around Harry’s shoulders, turning him away from the table.

“Come with me, Harry,” she said, her voice soft and reassuring in a mothering way that Draco knew Potter would never resist. She steered him across the room, opening a door and ushering him into a side room, closing the door behind them. 

Silence descended again as Draco scowled at the door behind which his mother had disappeared. It had taken him a good few months to finally accept that Potter would be joining the Inner Circle and he would have to share his lovers but sharing his mother? That wasn’t something Draco had been prepared for. Part of him understood that his mother, like all mothers, had the instinct to protect and care for children, no matter whose children they were or how old they are. Potter had never had any parents, although perhaps some people who resembled them, and he was therefore likely to be the type who clung to any kind of maternal treatment. Draco couldn’t blame him for that, really. But Narcissa was _his_ mother, not Potter’s. He would share his lovers if he had to but not her.

Draco slammed down his glass, pushing back his chair forcefully as he stepped around it, storming across the room. He pushed open the double doors they had entered through, taking slight pleasure in the way they slammed behind him.

\- - -

**To Be Continued…?**   
_A/N: There it was! The first of a few Christmas dinner related chapters! I’m feeling rather proud of this chapter to be honest. Personally, I found writing Draco’s reaction at the end there very easy. It’s an only child thing, I think, this unwillingness to share maternal love. Well, an only_ **spoiled** child thing! Anywho, with the last chapter there was about four people who said they had read BR in a marathon session and this rocks! But, being the inquisitive Pisces that I am, I want to know where you have all come from! As for other reviewers- we love you as always and if I could snog you all, I would. And holy shit- only five chapters of part one left! The countdown begins.  
Kisses,  
Rora. 

\- - -


	53. Chapter LIII

  
Author's notes: "You're beyond now- redemption, and no one's going to catch you when you fall." Harry’s back at Hogwarts. His allegiances are wavering. It’s only a matter of time…  
[Slash, self-harm, eating disorders, drug use… AU5]  


* * *

** Beyond Redemption **   
_By Sisters of Darkness_

\- - -

For this Chapter:

**Rating(s)** : R-Rated.  
 **Pairing(s)** : None.  
 **Warning(s)** : Mentions of Self-Harm.

\- - -

**Chapter LIII**   
_By CS WhiteWolf_

**H** arry didn’t know whether to laugh or cry when first he began to feel his scar tingling. Though nowhere near the painful throbbing of past encounters, the insistent prickling nevertheless informed him that the Dark Lord was nigh, and by the looks Harry managed to catch being exchanged across the table it appeared that the Malfoy’s at least were in on it. Voldemort was coming to Christmas. Panic immediately began to well up inside him, thoughts of betrayal and deceit flashing through his mind as the fear that this was all some elaborately laid trap to force a confrontation between the Dark Lord and himself gripped at him. 

He stood as the prickling increased, it was almost teasing in its insistency and Harry seethed, both at the amusement he could feel coming through his link with Voldemort, and when Remus grabbed at his wrist, restraining him and trying to placate him with hollow words.

“It’s okay, Harry,” Remus muttered, his tone soothing but entirely lost on Harry who could feel the bile creeping into his throat. His eyes were wide and pleading he knew as he managed to choke out a reply.

“It isn’t, Remus,” He said, a note of panic in his voice, “It’s not.” 

Remus tugged him back down into his seat, leaning close and hushing him, a heavy but comforting hand on his shoulder. “It is, cub. I’ll not let them hurt you, Harry, ever. You know I wont.” He carefully released Harry’s wrist as the main doors into the dining room opened to permit the Dark Lord’s entrance. 

Feeling the blood drain from his face, Harry sucked in silent gulps of breath, to keep from passing out with sheer terror. It was one thing agreeing to join the Inner Circle, but meeting both Lucius Malfoy and Voldemort on the same night, whilst surrounded by the Dark Lord’s most trusted- this was not something Harry had signed up to. Not now. Not yet.

The very sound of Voldemort’s voice as he greeted his followers sent shivers sliding down Harry’s spine. He sensed, more than saw, the Dark Lord make his way around the table towards that one space that had been left unoccupied. He should have known. He’d caught enough glimpses of those old movies his Aunt Petunia had been so fond of to know that the two heads of the household sat at the two ends of the table. Either that or the next most important member arriving to dinner sat opposite the host. And with neither Malfoy nor Snape seated there it only left room for one other deduction- that the Dark Lord himself was to be arriving. 

How foolish he had been. He should have known even before being seated at the table that something was amiss. He’d felt a growing sense of dread as the day had progressed that something was wrong, that something ominous was going to happen. Even sitting in the living room of Grimmauld Place with a mug of cinnamon-laced hot chocolate cupped in his hands, wrapping paper strewn about the room, his small and much appreciated bundle of gifts placed tidily beside the tree- Harry had felt that something was going to happen. 

Usually always one to trust his instincts, Harry had for once pushed the feelings away, putting them down to the fact that though he was sitting curled against Remus’ side, Remus was sitting curled against Snape’s. He would have snorted at his own idiocy were it not for the fact that he were fighting just to keep control of his emotions, fear and anger warring to take him over one way or another as his hands clenched themselves so tightly into fists that he felt his nails piercing through his skin. 

He dimly became aware of the items beside him that began to shake, clinking against each other as he tried to reel his powers in. Voldemort’s amusement washed over him in waves both taunting and soothing and Harry’s teeth sliced through his tongue at the Dark Lord’s daring. However, it was when Malfoy leant over towards his father and mentioned Bellatrix Lestrange that Harry finally lost it, launching himself to his feet and shoving away from both his chair and Remus’ outstretched hand. 

Harry flicked his eyes about the room, trying to find some form of exit in which to flee through, his gaze landing briefly on Voldemort’s as he scanned the room. His scar gave a jolt at the connection and he almost jumped when Narcissa Malfoy laid her hand on his arm, ushering him from the room. He went willingly, daring to place his trust in this woman as she led him out of the room and into a comfortably sized receiving room. 

He followed blindly as she led him to a cushioned bench, seating them both down before moving to uncurl Harry’s hands, which were still clenched into fists, droplets of blood staining at his fingertips. 

“Come now, Harry,” Narcissa tried soothingly, conjuring a wet cloth and setting about wiping the blood from Harry’s palms, tutting at the hurts he’d done to himself. Harry barely noticed, swallowing against the blood and bile that coated his mouth, his stomach churning unpleasantly as his scar continued to prickle. Tugging one of his hands from Narcissa’s he rubbed at it, pressing the tips of his fingers into the lightning bolt scar and trying with all his might to keep from scratching at the blasted thing, to vainly attempt to rip out the connection between them. 

Narcissa caught his hand and pulled it from his face before Harry could fall into the temptation, the action jolting him in its presumptuousness- who was this woman who thought to stop him from hurting himself? 

“I apologise, Harry, for your not having been informed of our Lord’s arrival this evening.” Narcissa began, breaking Harry from his thoughts and gaining his attention. “I will endeavour to discover exactly how such a slip of the mind could have occurred.” 

Harry swallowed heavily. Something in her words letting Harry know that not only did Narcissa already know how such a ‘slip of the mind’ had occurred, but also that they would soon be regretting their decision to ‘forget’ to inform him. Harry twisted his hands in his lap, the sting of freshly made cuts soothing him a moment as he tried to compose himself enough to reply. 

“I’m sorry,” Harry blurted, biting his lip at the abruptness of his words and wincing as his teeth ripped at already tender muscle, blood bubbled up along his tongue to be swallowed away almost instantly. 

Narcissa turned more fully to face him, her arm brushing against his own; the smell of her perfume- though subtle- tickled at his nose. 

“Whatever for, Harry?” She asked. Harry’s eyes roamed about the room, taking in the stark white of it all, a spattering of colour in gold and silver only, the odd green leafed plant standing out pleasantly. 

“For my… behaviour at the table. It is… I did not expect to meet with Him so soon.” 

“And yet you shall have to meet with the Dark Lord eventually,” Narcissa replied and Harry finally turned to look at her. 

“Yes, but not now. Not when I’d least expected it. Not when I’m…” 

“Surrounded by enemies?” Harry flushed as Narcissa finished his train of thought. The laughter in her eyes soothed him slightly, though he still sat as tense and taunt as a strung bow. 

“I mean no offence.” He muttered, looking away again. Another twinge from his scar had him rubbing at it, a shiver stealing up his spine. 

“It is only natural that you’d be afraid of meeting with him, Harry, planned or otherwise. I understand that all previous encounters have been in more or less life and death situations. Choosing to join the Inner Circle, to join with him- it’s a big step to take after everything and is as frightening to you as it is to him.”

“Voldemort’s afraid of me?” Harry blurted, looking up in surprise and seeing the smirk adorning Narcissa’s lips. 

“Do try not to repeat it, hmm?” Harry felt the corners of his lips tugging upwards briefly as he nodded his head in agreement. 

“He’ll not hear it from me, Mrs Malfoy.” Harry replied, flexing his fingers from their twisting grip in his robes. 

“It’s Narcissa, Harry,” She began, reaching out and taking Harry’s hands into her own, “Mrs Malfoy makes me feel too old.” She smiled easily at him and Harry was hard pressed to keep from grinning in response. This woman, this Malfoy, wasn’t as he’d expected at all. Narcissa Malfoy for him had always conjured images of that ‘stuck up’ expression he’d first seen her with way back before the start of his fourth year. This Narcissa Malfoy seated beside him and holding his hands as if they had been acquainted for years instead of the scant few hours he’d been in Malfoy Manor- this wasn’t the Narcissa Malfoy he’d expected at all. She was… familiar somehow, her disposition reminding him of another playful soul he’d once known, of another Black. Harry’s heart clenched a little at the reminder of the one he’d lost, but felt himself unable to fall completely into the grief of it as Narcissa tutted again, eyeing the freshly made creases in his robes. 

“Such beautiful clothing should not be treated so commonly.” She commented and Harry flushed, smiling shyly at her a moment before grimacing and reaching up to press at his scar again. The tingling increasing almost as a warning… a forewarning… 

He felt his face draining of colour, faintly heard Narcissa’s worried questions as his eyes riveted themselves on the doorway mere seconds before they opened to permit the Dark Lord. 

“My dear, Narcissa, I wish a word with Mr Potter. If you would leave us a moment?” What sounded like a polite enquiry was anything but as Narcissa sent Harry a reassuring look, extracting her delicate hand from Harry’s death-grip. She stood fluidly and curtsied before the Dark Lord before moving to leave the room. 

Harry’s heart leapt into his throat just as he leapt to his feet, fingers itching to take his wand into his hand, wanting to desperately for the familiar feel of hard wood in his pale, magic tingling down his arm in anticipation of use. 

His eyes flickered over Voldemort’s reformed form, a part of his mind intrigued by this new looking Dark Lord, this man that a younger Tom Riddle had never compared to in handsomeness, the rest of his mind however was hell bent on panic as Narcissa reached the door, opening it and preparing to step out and leave him to his doom. 

He’d never been so glad to see Remus in all his life. 

Feeling weak and shaky with relief, Harry almost sank to his knees as Remus prowled past Narcissa and into the room. There was a snarl on his lips that Harry had rarely ever seen before but treasured now as he stalked over to Harry, moving to stand at his side, a hand- so warm, and comforting, and protective- clamping down upon his shoulder. His eyes bright and glowing amber as glared at Voldemort, daring the Dark Lord to dismiss him as easily as he had Narcissa. 

Harry felt Voldemort’s conflicting amusement and irritation over the situation crawling through his scar as he looked up himself and met his crimson-flecked gaze. 

\- - -

**To Be Continued…?**   
_I can now perfectly understand Aurora when she tells me she has trouble writing Severus, because with this chapter, writing Narcissa was just… hard! I was worried I would end up portraying her as something terribly frigid, though Aurora assures me she was ‘Narcissa-esque’ enough to pass! Thank ye lords for that._  
Huge, huge ‘thank-you’ to all you lovely people out there reviewing each chapter of Beyond Redemption, it’s a continual delight checking our mailbox and finding yet another review- you guys (old and new) are making every last moment of this fic so much more enjoyable, and with the end of BR Part I nigh, please all keep it up! We’d really like to finish this story on a high, and nothing works better to get us high than reviews! :D  
Till next time (and please don’t kill me for the ending of this chapter!),  
Peace,  
CS WhiteWolf  


\- - -


	54. Chapter LIV

  
Author's notes: "You're beyond now- redemption, and no one's going to catch you when you fall." Harry’s back at Hogwarts. His allegiances are wavering. It’s only a matter of time…  
[Slash, self-harm, eating disorders, drug use… AU5]  


* * *

** Beyond Redemption **   
_By Sisters of Darkness_

\- - -

For this Chapter:

**Rating(s)** : R-Rated.  
 **Pairing(s)** : Lucius/Severus (oh my actual fucking god!)  
 **Warning(s)** : Adult Language; Mentions of Drug-Use; Hints at Alcoholism and Solvent Abuse

\- - -

**Chapter LIV**   
_By Aurora Enkeli Medeis_

**L** ucius fingered the rim of his wine glass as he watched the Dark Lord leave the dining room, closely followed by a snarling werewolf. The door closed with a click as Lucius took a mouthful of wine.

“Why wasn’t he told?” Severus asked; his teeth clenched as he stared at the door. Draining the wine, Lucius picked up his whisky. He was in trouble, quite clearly, and it looked like Severus was going to be the first to vent his anger.

“I had been asked to inform you,” Lucius said smoothly, “I suppose it just… slipped my mind.” He took a long drink of whisky as Severus turned to glare at him.

“It slipped your mind?” Severus repeated. Lucius nodded once, downing the last of his drink. Reaching across the table, he picked up a bottle of wine.

Quicker than he could pour it, Lucius found the bottle snatched from his grasp by Severus who was now standing over him, his vacated chair pushed far back from the table.

“How could something so important have slipped your mind?” Severus hissed. Lucius’ eyes narrowed.

“Apparently it slipped _your_ mind as well, considering that it happens every year,” Lucius spat back. Severus’ nostrils flared.

“Under the circumstances I thought…” Severus said but was interrupted.

“The world does not revolve around the Potter boy, Severus. Our plans were not going to change just for him.”

“That _boy_ ,” Severus replied, glaring, “will soon be a member of the Inner Circle.”

“Not if that is how he reacts to the Dark Lord,” Lucius said casually, “he is too young, too naïve and too… inexperienced.”

Severus’ eyes narrowed until they were mere black slits.

“He is not a great deal younger than Draco,” he pointed a finger at Lucius, “you have no idea what he has been through- Draco’s pain is incomparable to Harry’s.”

Severus’ words hung heavy in the air and Lucius felt his blood boil. He stood up so quickly that Severus was forced to take a step backwards.

“How dare you.” Lucius said slowly, “You witnessed, first hand, the pain that Draco put himself through. Honestly Severus, I never would have pegged you as someone who would put a _Potter_ on a pedestal,” he gave a despondent shake of his head before sneering, “now give me back the wine.”

“Why?” Severus asked, “So I can watch you indulge in your destructive habits once more?”

Lucius stepped up to Severus, their noses almost touching as they glared at each other.

“You are not in a position to speak about habits, Severus.”

Lucius snatched the bottle of wine and slammed it down on the table.

“I disagree, Lucius. Not only do I know personally about habits but I have witnessed _first hand_ , as you rightfully pointed out, your own son’s habits,” Severus’ voice dropped to a low, dangerous tone, “which is more than I can say for you.”

With that last statement, Lucius’ tight reign on his temper snapped and he grabbed the collar of Severus’ robes. With a smash of lips and teeth, Lucius brought their mouths together, his hands moving to grip the sides of Severus’ face in a tight and unrelenting hold.

\- - -

Narcissa stood just behind the door into the dining room, listening to the raised voices. Her temper flared at Severus’ comments surrounding Draco but she refrained from swinging open the door and joining in the argument- ganging up on Severus would not do any good at all. So she stayed there listening, straining to make out what was being said in lowered voices. When the murmuring ceased and the shouting did not begin again, Narcissa presumed that they had both run out of steam- it tended to be the case when Severus and Lucius argued.

She pushed open the door slightly, expecting to find them both seated, staring petulantly down at their plates. It was as she watched her husband forcibly kissing Severus that it became clear that she was rather incorrect.

Narcissa watched as Severus struggled, only to find himself firmly held in Lucius’ grip. Narcissa knew that hold well, it conveyed Lucius’ thought of ‘ _What I want is you and I will not let you go until you yield_.’ It never took long to give in.

Sure enough, within mere moments, Narcissa witnessed Severus’ entire body melt, his fingers bunching desperately in the fabric of Lucius’ robes. Biting her lip, Narcissa knew she should interrupt the scene but instead, stood transfixed as she watched Lucius’ and Severus’ tongues moving fiercely against each other. Lucius was pushing Severus back towards the table as Severus let out a low moan. It was that sound that caused Narcissa to gasp at the realisation that her husband was, quite possibly, about to have sex on the dining table.

The two men sprung apart and Severus flushed unpleasantly as he looked at anything other than Narcissa. Narcissa felt a slight spark of amusement at Severus’ embarrassment. Really, she thought, it wasn’t like she didn’t know. Amusement very rapidly turned to anger as her grey eyes fell to her husband. Before she could open her mouth to scold him, she noticed her son’s absence.

“Where is Draco?” Narcissa asked.

“He left,” Lucius replied, sitting back down in his chair.

“Our- at times- emotionally unstable son storms out of the room and you do not think to follow?”

Lucius had the sense to look momentarily sheepish.

“No,” Narcissa continued, “you don’t think.”

She watched Severus out the corner of her eye as the Potions Master sat down, the red blush still tinting his sallow cheeks. Lucius uncorked the bottle of wine and made a move to pour it. Narcissa placed her hand over the glass and Lucius looked up at her, angry at being denied a drink yet again.

“A word, Lucius,” Narcissa instructed, sweeping past her husband and exiting the room.

She stood in the corridor, arms folded impatiently as the nearby portraits pretended not to be interested. The door opened and Lucius stepped out before closing it and looking at his wife. Narcissa noticed her husband’s arrogant, nonchalant demeanour and she vowed that he would not stay that way for long.

“What in Merlin’s name do you think you are doing?” She asked angrily. Lucius leant back on the doorframe, forcibly reminding Narcissa of the haughty teen he used to be.

“I believe,” Lucius said dryly, “that I am standing in a hallway and very soon to be admonished for my forgetfulness.”

“Forgetfulness?” Narcissa reiterated incredulously, “I asked you time and again if the information regarding the Dark Lord’s arrival had been passed on to Harry. Each time you replied you blatantly lied to me, Lucius.”

Although he remained in his careless stance, the colour drained from Lucius’ face. Lucius Malfoy may have been arrogant but he was not stupid- lying to his wife, he knew, especially when said wife was Narcissa ‘Black’, was a very bad idea.

“At least now we all know where Draco gets his ability to wreak havoc from.” Narcissa continued, her voice low and eyes narrowed, “Speaking of Draco, I shall go and find him since your ‘forgetfulness’ seems to have rendered you incapable of that too.”

Narcissa turned on her heel and stormed off, her anger at her husband quickly over-shadowed by her concern for her son.

\- - -

Draco kicked a pile of snow that was lying by the side of the garden path, pulling his robes tighter around him as a frozen gust of wind blew over him. Light from the windows of the manor lit the garden up with a soft glow, barely highlighting the path he was walking on. Somewhere in one of those rooms, Potter was being consoled by Draco’s mother. Potter had no right to be in there with _his_ mother.

_Doesn’t Potter have a right to a mother?_

Draco growled and kicked a snow-covered bush, the snow soaking through the bottom of his robes. Potter was joining the Inner Circle, not the Malfoy family. Draco dropped to a bench that had, luckily, been charmed against the weather and was completely snow free. 

He’d been wandering through the gardens for a good ten minutes, the cold seeping through his robes as he made his way to this place. It was where he had always come when he needed escape, needed quiet. Dropping his face to his hands, he rubbed at his eyes, fingertips brushing down the bridge of his nose. He needed a hit and he needed one bad. Leaning back onto his hands, Draco looked up at the night sky. The clouds from earlier had cleared and from the manor’s secluded location, so many of the stars were visible. 

As he charted through the constellations, he heard footsteps crunching along the path towards him. He knew whom it was without turning around- only one person knew to look for him here.

“This all went well, didn’t it?” He said sarcastically as Narcissa sat down beside him.

“Did you expect it to go well?”

Draco snorted and looked round at his mother.

“Never in a million years,” he replied. Narcissa eyed him critically.

“You knew that Potter didn’t know about the Dark Lord, didn’t you?” She asked. He shrugged and averted his eyes.

“Father didn’t exactly come right out and say it,” Draco said, wrapping his arms tightly around himself.

“Yes well he wouldn’t,” Narcissa said with a snort, “The Dark Lord is with Harry as we speak.”

Draco wrinkled his nose at his mother’s use of Potter’s given name but he didn’t say anything.

“Five galleons says someone will end up dead,” Draco said and Narcissa gave him a stern look. He mumbled an apology and looked away, trying to stop his teeth chattering. Narcissa looked fondly at her son- sometimes she forgot how young he still was.

“Why did you leave, Draco? I thought you had come around to the idea of Harry joining the Inner Circle?” She asked softly, wrapping an arm around her son’s shoulders.

“I had,” Draco sighed, “almost, anyway. I’d accepted that he was joining the Inner Circle, not the Malfoy family,” he said, repeating what he had thought just minutes earlier. Narcissa kissed the top of his head.

“Is the Inner Circle not like a family?” she asked, causing Draco to look up at her curiously.

“I suppose… yes,” he said weakly, “it’s just… I was prepared for him being with Severus and Father but not you. You’re not part of the Inner Circle- you’re my mother.”

“Draco,” Narcissa said, her tone soft and understanding, “you need to realise that Harry has never had a family that loved him. He never had a father to ask for advice or a mother to turn to for comfort. With the Inner Circle… he may find the understanding and, perhaps, even the love that he has missed out on.”

The thought of loving Potter gave Draco a rather violent bout of nausea. Liking Potter? Fine. Sex with Potter? Maybe. Loving Potter? Not on your life. In spite of this, Draco could grudgingly see what his mother meant. 

“I suppose you’re right,” Draco said. A silence passed before he spoke again, “Father is going to be in trouble isn’t he?” Narcissa nodded.

“Severus has already had words with him, as have I,” she told him. Draco shuddered.

“And then the Dark Lord will?” Narcissa nodded and Draco shuddered again, “I know how he’s going to feel.”

“Awful?”

“Extremely,” Draco replied, giving his mother an odd look as she gazed away with a satisfied look on her face.

“Good. Now, come back inside,” Narcissa said, standing up and bringing Draco with her.

Draco frowned at her but said nothing- she did have a point. Even Potter didn’t deserve what had happened to him. A thought suddenly struck him that made his heart beat faster and his blood run cold at the same time.

“Potter is really part of my life now, isn’t he?” he asked, his voice low and almost disbelieving. Narcissa smiled.

“I’m afraid so,” she replied, “how does that feel?”

Draco mulled over the question as they walked along the path. How did it really feel? Draco sighed as they turned a corner, nearing the house.

“Not as bad as I thought it might.” 

\- - -

**To Be Continued…?**   
_A/N: Well look at this- two chapters in two days. This is what happens when we get excited! There are three chapters left! THREE!!! The last chapter of Part One is going to be posted on Wednesday night (2nd November), at which time, CS and I will lay down plans for Part Two. It’s so exciting I could just flail._

_Thanks, as always, for so many wonderful reviews for the last chapter. Especially for assuring CS that she wrote Narcissa well. Apparently she didn’t believe me! In this chapter I got to write from Lucius’ perspective, then Narcissa’s and then Draco’s. I am officially in Malfoy Fangirl overload._  
Kisses,  
Rora. 

\- - -


	55. Chapter LV

  
Author's notes: "You're beyond now- redemption, and no one's going to catch you when you fall." Harry’s back at Hogwarts. His allegiances are wavering. It’s only a matter of time…  
[Slash, self-harm, eating disorders, drug use… AU5]  


* * *

** Beyond Redemption **   
_By Sisters of Darkness_

\- - -

For this Chapter:

**Rating(s)** : R-Rated.  
 **Pairing(s)** : None.  
 **Warning(s)** : Mentions of Self-Harm.

\- - -

**Chapter LV**   
_By CS WhiteWolf_

“Ah, Mr Lupin,” Voldemort seemed to hiss the name, “Please join us.” He stared at Remus so intently that had it been Harry he’d have dropped his gaze long ago. He sent Remus a look out the corner of his eye, pride swelling in his chest as he noted Remus was giving as good as he got, his amber eyes burning as they bore into Voldemort’s crimson gaze. 

“Thank you, My Lord,” Remus replied stiffly, jerking his head slightly.

Harry’s scar seared a little as Voldemort’s expression darkened, no longer amused with the situation. Harry hissed slightly, moving to rub at his scar in attempt to alleviate the pain spiking at it, his actions catching the attention of both Remus and Voldemort, who broke off their staring contest to stare at him. 

“Do they feel your emotions through their marks too?” Harry asked daringly, shakily looking up through his bangs to see Voldemort’s calculating gaze. The Dark Lord waved his hand dismissively. 

“They feel what I wish them to feel.” He replied, turning his full attentions on Harry. He scanned the boy’s forehead as he dropped his hand to his side, allowing for Voldemort to see the cursed scar that stood out so achingly red against the paleness of his skin. His crimson gaze narrowing slightly as he considered something about the Potter boy he had not before thought to. 

Subtly, Voldemort forced himself to calm, choosing to ignore the werewolf as he considered Harry Potter for a moment. The boy who he had sworn to kill and who in turn was more or less sworn to kill him. The boy, this young man standing before him, looking so small and young yet old and defiant at the same time. Harry Potter who wished to join with the Inner Circle, to become part of Voldemort’s elite and partake in the pleasures such privileges entitled. 

“Tell me, Mr Potter,” Voldemort’s voice interrupted the silence that had steadily grown in the room, “Why the dark side?” He asked, eyes flashing with specks of green, “Why the side that has caused you so much pain in your life? You surely haven’t forgiven me my trespasses against you and yours, and yet here you are, a willing sheep to the proverbial slaughter, ready to pledge your allegiance to the very side you should be against.” 

Harry bristled and Voldemort’s lips twisted, amused as he felt the indignation Harry felt at the way he’d phrased his question. Even the werewolf looked affronted, squeezing the boy’s shoulder reassuringly as Harry’s mouth thinned, his hands curling into little firsts once more. 

“Because,” Harry started through clenching teeth, “it was inevitably a choice between you and Dumbledore.” 

Voldemort blinked, mildly surprised at the boy’s reply, noting out of the corner of his eye that the werewolf was frowning at Harry. He too had obviously not been expecting such a response. 

“Harry-,” Remus began but Harry shrugged his hand off, standing straight and meeting Voldemort’s eyes with a new intensity that the Dark Lord found redeeming.

“I also seek to join you because, despite everything, I believe your side to be the lesser of two evils. I do not agree with your pureblooded philosophies, Voldemort, nor your policies on muggles-,”

“You will address me as ‘my lord’.” Voldemort interrupted him, his voice soft and hissing.

Harry shuddered at the sound, watching as the serpentine man before him seethed at the use of his name. And despite the fear and trepidation he felt under Voldemort’s scrutinising, Harry too felt indignation at the order. Not just for the order itself but because Voldemort sought to exert even this small amount of control over him.

“You are not my lord.” Harry whispered, shaking his head in denial, “Not yet.” 

Red-hot pain shot through his scar as Voldemort erupted in anger, “Such disrespect!” He spat, “You expect to join with us when you treat me with such insolence? I am the Dark Lord, Harry Potter! There are wizards out there smarter and braver than you who would not dare speak to me as you do.”

Harry moaned, clutching at his scar, spots dancing across his vision, He cried out as Remus’ tugged his hands from their scrabbling at his forehead, the werewolf growling audibly now as he turned his glare on Voldemort who felt the air about them both crackling with tension and barely constrained magic. He forced himself calm, forced himself to block as much of his anger from Harry’s mind as he was able to. 

By the time he was sufficiently calmed, Harry was lying slumped against Remus’ chest, his face buried into the werewolf’s robes, fingers flexing around their fistfuls of material. His breathing was harsh and panting as he turned, his eyes hooded and glazed with pain and a flickering of anger and defiance. 

“Yes,” Harry started shakily, swallowing heavily, wiping the sleeve of his robe across his forehead, wincing as the feel of it scraping across his scar and the cuts he’d freshly created there. “You are the Dark Lord,” His voice was soft, mocking as he continued on, “I congratulate you on such an accomplishment. But I will not become just another minion to you.” He grimaced, “I’m tired of being used as a pawn in this war. Short of choosing no side I have come to you, Voldemort- yes I dare to use your name! Because I was informed that those of the Inner Circle were equal.” 

Voldemort’s eyes were blazing, his body taunt and ready, waiting, just waiting- the urge to curse this audacious boy before him was almost overpowering in it’s intensity as he managed to bite out a reply to Harry’s accusations of the Inner Circle being anything other than equal. 

“They are equal, Potter.”

“To each other maybe, but to you? They are forced to wear your mark, your sign of dominance over them.” 

“There’s is a mark that works both ways, Mr Potter. I feel their pain and their pleasures and they in turn feel mine. We all are connected through the mark we share.”

“You wear the Dark Mark?” Harry’s voice was hoarse with surprise and Voldemort felt his amusement returning. 

“No. That mark- you are right- is a show of my dominance over my followers. Those of the Inner Circle wear a different mark.”

“Both Snape and Mr Malfoy wear the Dark Mark though.” Harry said, feeling slightly confused by the revelation, he leant himself back against Remus’ chest, the werewolf holding him close, wrapping his arms tightly around Harry’s waist. He could feel the minute rumbling in Remus’ chest as he held back his animalistic growling towards Voldemort. A warm feeling filled him at Remus’ protectiveness over him.

“Lucius wears nothing of the sort. Not anymore. And Severus wears his only for cover.” 

Harry nodded in understanding, knowing that Snape needed the proof to show Dumbledore. He winced a little at the stinging sensation coming from his scar, this time though the pain was more physical than mental. 

“You alright, cub?” Remus asked softly, his eyes flicking worriedly from Harry as he touched tenderly at his scar and Voldemort who stood tall and imposing, watching silently. 

Harry nodded, turning his head slightly to offer Remus a shaky smile. 

“Your scar pains you, Mr Potter?” Voldemort asked. Harry looked over hesitantly. 

“Yes,” He answered, eyes hooded as he watched Voldemort’s eyes flicker over the offending scar before he stepped forward, holding his hand out slightly. Harry frowned at him in confusion, his brow creasing further when the Dark Lord indicated to his scar. 

“May I?” 

“You- you want to _touch_ it?” Harry’s voice had a slightly incredulous tone to it as he tried to step backwards, succeeding only in pressing himself further against Remus. 

“I may be able to soothe it. The curse is of my doing, of course.” 

Remus’ growl reverberated through the air. “You could end it then?” He asked roughly. 

Voldemort smiled thinly. “I never said that. Nor would I if I could. Not now at least.” 

Harry shivered at the predatory look that flashed through Voldemort’s eyes, he noted the green was flecked through them again, wondering if they truly changed colour with his mood or if it was merely a trick of light that had him seeing those crimson eyes changing from red to speckled with green. 

Voldemort reached out again and Harry’s breath caught in a slight whimper. Remus’ hand shot out as if to ward the Dark Lord away but one sharp look from the dark-haired man had Remus dropping his hand, backing down only a little as he wrapped his arms about Harry’s waist again, squeezing him reassuringly. 

The first touch of Voldemort’s fingers to his forehead made him jump, his skin crawling momentarily before a cooling sensation washed over him as those pale fingers brushed almost gently across his scar; the aching disappearing to be replaced by a soothing tingling that made Harry feel both weak and dizzy. Voldemort’s hand slipped down the side of his face, cupping at his cheek in a way that still allowed for him to brush his thumb to and fro across his scar. 

Harry found himself leaning into the touch without so much as a thought, knowing with a vague and drifting thought that had Remus not been holding him he may very well have collapsed to the floor by now, his legs feeling weak and shaky as if he’d just run for his life and, upon finding safe haven, found the adrenaline leaving him. 

“Enough,” The snarl broke through the haze in his mind and Harry found himself blinking the world back into focus as Voldemort retracted his hand, a satisfied smirk on his face as he beheld Harry’s flushed and panting face, and the look of confusion that marred his features.

Remus seemed to be trembling with suppressed emotion; Harry could feel the tremors that ran through his body and twisted slightly to catch glimpse of the dark look that had settled over Remus’ expression, the look changing swiftly for Harry, though he noted the dirty look he shot Voldemort. 

Amusement tickled at his scar and Harry felt the strangest urge to smile in response. 

“I believe we shall return to dinner now. If you think you can stomach my company, Mr Potter?” 

Harry nodded his head, though reluctant to return to the heaped mounds of food laid out on the dining table, it was preferable to being in this room a moment longer. He could feel a tension of sorts brewing between Remus and Voldemort and did not wish to linger and become the soul witness to watching it resolved. 

Voldemort inclined his head a little before sweeping from the room, leaving Remus and Harry alone for a moment. The second the door closed behind the Dark Lord, Remus turned Harry around, taking his face into his hands and peering intently at him. 

“Are you okay, Harry?” He asked in all seriousness. 

Harry gave Remus a shaky smile, “Yeah, I- it’s okay.” 

Remus stroked his face a little before tugging Harry into his arms for a hug. “I hadn’t realised cub, I didn’t know he’d be here and if I had you’d have known the moment I did.” He pressed a kiss to Harry’s crown. “I’ll be having words with Severus the moment we’re out of here. He had no right to do this to us- to you.” 

Harry pulled himself out of the embrace, grabbing at Remus’ hands, frowning for the umpteenth time that evening. 

“Remus, it’s okay. I- I don’t think it was Snape’s fault, not really. Just… I don’t want you to fight. I just want to finish with this evening and go- go…” He wanted so desperately to say ‘home’ but he couldn’t bring himself to think of Grimmauld Place as being that anymore. “I just want to go back to Grimmauld Place when this is over.” 

Remus let out a deep breath, giving Harry a small smile and squeezing at his hands. “If that’s what you want, cub.” 

Harry nodded his head, biting his lip a little as they made their way back through into the dining room around the same time as Narcissa and Draco Malfoy both entered from the opposite side. He met Malfoy’s eyes as they seated themselves down at the table for a second attempt at Christmas dinner. Their gazes lingered longer than normal, something seeming to have changed between them in the space between meals. 

He watched as Malfoy started to cut up a roast potato, looking to his own plate and noting- despite the still untouched turkey and the small pile of vegetables- that he had neglected to dish himself up some potatoes. 

Harry let his eyes roam about the table, though there was still a tenseness in the air, it appeared that this time Narcissa wasn’t the only one trying to make conversation as he caught snippets of speech coming from all over the table. Even Malfoy seemed to be making an attempt by engaging Remus in a discussion over some Defence spell or other. 

Spotting the potatoes he’d been searching for, Harry turned to face the Dark Lord who looked up at him as if having sensed that Harry required his attention. Swallowing heavily and forcing himself to not turn to Remus and ask him to fetch the tray for him, Harry asked, “Voldemort, could you pass the potatoes, please?” 

There came the sound of several indrawn breaths and the sudden sound of smashing glass as Lucius dropped his snifter of alcohol, no doubt at Harry’s daring to use the Dark Lord’s name. Harry sat tensed; sure something was going to happen due to his ‘insolence’. And perhaps something would have been had not Voldemort picked up the plate of roasted potatoes and held them out to Harry without a word.

\- - -

**To Be Continued…?**   
_Hope ya’ll enjoyed this chapter! Having to write Harry and Voldemort together in the same room was a little taxing with all that angry energy between them, and smexy Remus wasn’t helping at all! According to Aurora “Remus and Voldemort together here could actually cause some sort of multiple orgasm effect”. True story, she actually said that! And I have to say the possibility is there when you think about it ;) What do you guys think? Anybody out there feeling the love?_  
Gods, can you believe that there are only two more chapters to go? Two!? I mean seriously! It’s just so unbelievable to think that by Wednesday (upon which we plan to post the last chapter!) Beyond Redemption Part I will be completed! The next chapter will be posted on Tuesday evening, leaving chapter 57 to be posted on Wednesday- if everything goes as planned of course! So please folks, lots of lovely reviews are wanted in the run up to pressing that ‘completed: yes’ button!   
Thanks to everyone who’s still reading and reviewing, keep it up folks!  
Peace,  
CS WhiteWolf  


\- - -


	56. Chapter LVI

  
Author's notes: "You're beyond now- redemption, and no one's going to catch you when you fall." Harry’s back at Hogwarts. His allegiances are wavering. It’s only a matter of time…  
[Slash, self-harm, eating disorders, drug use… AU5]  


* * *

** Beyond Redemption **   
_By Sisters of Darkness_

\- - -

For this Chapter:

**Rating(s)** : R-Rated.  
 **Pairing(s)** : Mentions of Harry Potter/Sirius Black; Harry Potter/Draco Malfoy.  
 **Warning(s)** : Adult Language; Mentions of Drug-Use/Self-Harm; Smoking… is that even a warning?

\- - -

**Chapter LVI**   
_By Aurora Enkeli Medeis_

**F** inally, Draco thought, it had stopped snowing. Not long after the guests had left, and been invited back for New Years day, the heavens opened and snow had poured ever since. Now the sun was shining, streaming through Draco’s bedroom window as he stood staring down at the shimmering snow covering the gardens, his arms folded over his bare chest. 

Draco had had a few days to recover from Christmas Day or, more precisely, the heart attack he very nearly suffered after watching the Dark Lord cordially passing roast potatoes to Potter. If the world wasn’t fucked before, it was now. The last of dinner had passed remarkably amicably after the earlier events; Draco had even managed conversations with both Potter and Lupin. As the night had grown late and the food had run out, the guests chose to depart in a rather awkward ceremony in the Entrance Hall of the manor. Narcissa had promptly invited them all back on New Years day and had, of course, been accepted. At least Potter knew the Dark Lord was coming this time.

Scratching his head and yawning, Draco padded across the room towards his bathroom but was stopped by a knock on his door.

“Come in,” he said, frowning. The door opened and Narcissa stepped into the room, her lilac dress swinging around her ankles. “Good morning, mum,” Draco said and Narcissa snorted.

“Afternoon, I think you’ll find, Draco,” she replied, inclining her head towards the clock. Draco’s eyes went wide- he rarely ever slept this late. “Remus and Harry will be arriving within the hour,” she continued, “Severus is already here.”

“He is?” Draco asked, surprised. Narcissa nodded.

“He is discussing something with your father in the conservatory and I do not feel the need to interrupt.”

Draco smirked, his mother was probably very right to choose that path of action.

“Harry will be bringing his broom with him,” Narcissa said, sitting down on her son’s bed. Draco frowned at her and she shrugged, “there are a few things that Severus, the Dark Lord and your father want to discuss before sitting down with Harry, it seems. It seemed to be generally agreed that sending the two of you flying was a good idea.”

Draco pondered this as he wandered into the bathroom. It probably was a good idea. It would make a change from sitting in the silence of the Astronomy tower at any rate. He turned on the tap, picking up his toothbrush.

“Try not to get caught up in any kind of rivalry,” Narcissa said, having come to stand in the doorway. Draco half grinned around his toothbrush. “I’m serious. Quidditch does odd things to people.”

Draco finished brushing his teeth, rinsing out his mouth with copious amounts of water. 

“I shall remember to behave myself then,” Draco said, stepping around Narcissa and walking up to his wardrobe. 

“And hold your tongue- you can be as bad as your father when it comes to ruining things with single comments.”

Draco rolled his eyes, even though he knew his mother was right.

“I’ll see you downstairs soon- I’ll have the house elves make you some food.”

Barely resisting the urge to screw up his nose, Draco agreed, bidding his mother farewell as she swept from the room. Pushing several coat hangers around, Draco eventually pulled out a set of black robes. They were nipped in at the waist and made with less material than normal robes, making them more useful for flying. Around the cuffs, an ornate design had been etched in silver thread. Draco changed, chucking his pyjama bottoms onto the bed before slipping on a pair of boxers and shrugging on his robes.

With a quick brush and longer time inspecting single strands, Draco’s hair was done and he left his bedroom, still yawning slightly having only been awake about twenty minutes.

\- - -

Sandwiches. God damned, bloody sandwiches. Draco scowled at said food, pulling on the crusts. No doubt there would also be a large meal later in the evening that he would have to stomach, which really, he reasoned, meant he should be saving his appetite. Well, what appetite he had. It felt like he had been nibbling on the same bit of bread for hours when his mother came in to tell him that Potter and Lupin had shown up. 

He followed her through corridors and out into the Entrance Hall where the first thing he saw was his father standing beside Severus. Having yet to see the man, Draco stepped forward quickly, wrapping his arms around Severus’ thin waist.

“Happy New Year, Draco,” Severus said, resting his head atop the younger Malfoy’s head.

“You too,” Draco replied as he pulled away. He hadn’t actually seen his father at all yet either. Lucius quirked a brow as if he had heard Draco’s thoughts. He quirked a brow but said nothing and Draco returned the gesture, smirking silently at his father. Turning, Draco watched his mother releasing Potter from a hug. There was a strong surge of jealously but nothing that he couldn’t quell.

“Draco,” Lupin said, almost shocking the distracted blond, “happy New Year.”

Draco inclined his head, feeling a strong sense of déjà vu. 

“Happy New Year, Professor.” 

Potter was standing not too far from Lupin but still noticeably further than he had been on Christmas day. Draco supposed that that was a good sign. Draco turned to the Gryffindor, noting, with a completely different kind of jealousy, the Firebolt that was propped up against him.

“Potter,” Draco said with a dip of his head. He almost laughed at how routine his encounters with Potter were becoming.

“Malfoy,” Potter replied, nodding his head also. Draco noticed the adults exchange almost amused glances with each other, causing Draco scowl. For a few moments they all stood there, no one quite sure of what was to happen next. Narcissa rolled her eyes.

“Draco, why don’t you show Harry around the manor and then go flying like planned?”

Draco nearly rolled his eyes at the way his mother phrased her sentence. It was neither a question, more a request, nor had showing Potter around anything been planned. Nevertheless, he nodded.

“Very well,” Lucius interjected, “if you need us, we will be in the conservatory. Someone will let you know when the Dark Lord arrives.”

Draco noticed that Potter, although prepared, still tensed at the mention of the Dark Lords arrival. Lucius and Severus both turned at almost exactly the same moment in a very similar, dramatic fashion. Draco was rather amused but could have sworn he heard a possessive growl coming from Lupin. He frowned, shaking his head, sure he imagined it. Narcissa ushered Lupin in the same direction, giving Draco a very pointed look as she closed the door to one of many corridors that led away from the Entrance Hall.

The room fell into an exceedingly awkward silence as Draco wondered if the grandfather clock in the corner had always ticked so loudly. He watched Potter shift from foot to foot, balancing his broom on his arm.

“Do you actually want a tour of the manor? Or would you rather go flying?” Draco asked. Sitting in silence with Potter was easy, actually making conversation was far too odd, making the knowledge that they were going to have to get along all the more apparent. Potter shrugged.

“I’d rather just go flying,” he replied and Draco breathed a sigh of relief.

“Good,” Draco said, heading across the room. Potter followed. “It would have taken days to show you around.” He added, dramatically. 

They lapsed into silence again as they walked, side by side, down one corridor and then another. Potter was staring around himself with ill concealed amazement.

“How can you ever remember where anything is here?” He asked. Draco rolled his eyes.

“The fact that it’s my home helps, Potter,” Draco replied sarcastically. Mentally, he kicked himself in the head- there was no point ending things now when there was a conversational possibility. “Then again, I’m convinced that there are many things I don’t know about in the manor.” He added.

“Hmm,” Potter responded. Draco could have hit his head on the wall- it was like pulling teeth. Well, if Potter couldn’t be bothered, neither could he.

Draco pushed open the door to a large, tiled room, his and Potter’s shoes slapping along the floor.

“You have your own changing room?” Potter asked, evidently rather amazed. Draco smirked.

“It’s been here since the Manor was built, I think,” Draco said as they walked passed a polished bench, “I have no idea why, though- no one in my family ever played Quidditch much. It must have been a status thing.”

“Yeah,” Potter replied absently as Draco took a key from his pocket. He inserted it into the lock of a large cabinet, which swung open, revealing his Nimbus 2001 sitting inside. Draco took it out and swung it over his shoulder.

“No showing off now, Potter,” Draco said as he locked the cabinet again, “just because you have a better broom, doesn’t make you a better flyer.”

Potter looked at his gleaming Firebolt for a moment, an almost-smile on his face.

“Sirius bought me this,” he said softly, almost to himself. Draco wondered why on earth Potter bothered telling him that- it wasn’t like he actually cared where the broom came from. At least Potter was speaking about his godfather without slicing his arm open, that had to be a good thing, Draco thought to himself. Unsure of what one would say in reply to such a comment, Draco pushed open a door, letting in a waft of cold air.

Draco watched Potter’s green eyes go wide as they stepped into an artificially created clearing. The ground was blindingly bright, the dusting of snow on the surrounding tree tops glinting in the afternoon sun.

“Good, isn’t it?” Draco said proudly, shutting the door to the changing room. Potter nodded as he mounted his broom, still looking around at the trees. Smirking, Draco mounted his broom and shot off, stopping to hover about ten feet above Potter. For the first time, probably since last he had seen Potter flying, Draco saw a nearly-happy look spread over the Gryffindors face as he shot up into the air, speeding past Draco.

Potter did a lap around the clearing before coming back to hover beside Draco. The blond tore away, speeding over the treetops and out into the rest of the grounds, Potter hot on his heels. Within moments, they were flying side by side, ducking and diving between trees. Pulling upwards, Draco sped away towards a nearby lake. It was small and silvery in amongst the snow. Potter must have noticed his line of sight as he over took Draco, flying off to the lake. 

Scowling, Draco forced his broom to go faster. He caught up to Potter, mid-way over the lake and even that was only because Potter had stopped. Draco screeched to a halt beside him, his feet only inches from the lake’s surface. Looking down at the water, Draco watched Potter’s reflection as the dark haired boy pulled a packet of cigarettes from inside his robes. He slipped one between his lips, lighting it and inhaling with a sigh.

“Those can’t help your performance, Potter,” Draco said, looking back up at Potter. Potter was giving him an odd look and Draco rolled his eyes. “Really, Potter, don’t be crude.”

This time it was Potter who rolled his eyes.

“They probably don’t,” he replied, “but… that won’t stop me.”

As Potter inhaled, Draco did a sharp loop the loop before righting himself again.

“Show off,” Potter said, blowing out a puff of smoke. Holding the cigarette with only his lips, he pulled his broom vertical, looping himself twice before hovering again. His lips twitched, almost smirking as he inhaled tobacco again. Draco snorted.

“Yes, _I’m_ the show off.”

Draco circled Potter, dipping so that his toes skimmed the water before pulling upwards, looping once then circling Potter upside down. He righted himself, diving downwards and pulling up in a loop, stopping somewhere beside Potter’s head. The Gryffindor flicked the end of his cigarette into the water.

“Polluting Malfoy land now?” Draco asked, raising an eyebrow. Potter looked sheepish and Draco rolled his eyes, “I was kidding, Potter. There’ll probably be something in there that will eat it.”

Potter looked down warily at the water. He was obviously about to try to one-up Draco’s flying when an owl screeched, flying down to Draco. Frowning, he took the letter from the owl’s leg before it flew away.

_Draco,_  
The Dark Lord has arrived. Join us in the downstairs sitting room as soon as you can get here.  
Severus 

Potter was looking at him quizzically.

“The Dark Lord is here,” Draco said. He watched the colour drain slightly from Potter’s cold flushed cheeks. Draco frowned and bit his bottom lip. He wondered briefly if Potter was as okay as he was pretending. “Come on.” 

Draco sped off and Potter followed. They flew quickly, landing rather roughly in the clearing. Dismounting his broom, Draco wandered into the changing room, Potter close behind him. The Slytherin put his broom back in the locked cabinet, sitting the key on the bench.

“You can leave your broom here if you want,” Draco said, disappearing behind a wall. He opened a small wardrobe, pulling out a set of dark green robes.

“Anywhere I should put it?” Potter asked. Draco stepped back out into the changing room, holding out his free hand to take the Firebolt. Potter bit him bottom lip, staring at his broom for a moment. His eyes met Draco’s, a steely resolve in his eyes. He handed over the broom and Draco, picking up the key, unlocked the cabinet and sat the Firebolt beside his Nimbus 2001. He frowned- there was something far too poignant in the two brooms sitting side by side.

Not wanting to spend the day in slightly sweaty robes, Draco unfastened his robes, slipping them off his shoulders and laying them over the bench. Pulling the green ones on his shoulders, Draco adjusted the cuffs before fastening the robes at the bottom. For the slightest of moments, Draco felt eyes on him and he frowned, looking up at Potter. 

Green eyes were staring, unusually avidly, at his bare mid section. Raising an eyebrow, Draco put his hand on his hip, waiting for Potter to stop looking. Potter blinked rapidly, looking away quickly. Draco smirked, fastening up his robes. Normally he would have said something but who knew how Potter would react. He suddenly had an appreciation of how people might have felt having to tiptoe around him lest he fly off the handle.

“Let’s go,” Draco said, holding out his hand to let Potter go first. Potter took a few steps forward, opening the door and standing in the doorway. He stared blankly out into the corridor, his face even paler than it had been. Draco frowned, stepping up beside him.

“You okay, Potter?” Draco asked, internally amazed at a newfound concern. Biting the inside of his cheek, Potter nodded, not looking round. Draco stepped closer, chewing on his own lip. He had no idea how the hell to comfort someone. Well, he did know one way but it was no use at the present moment. Draco brushed passed Potter, turning to look at him. The Gryffindor swallowed, taking a step out into the corridor, eyes wide and unblinking. 

Draco, completely bemused by the situation and his actions, leant in. His lips brushed over Potter’s, finger and thumb hooked under the Gryffindor’s chin. Potter’s lips were still cold from being outside, chapped and cracked against Draco’s. Finding the whole thing bizarrely awkward, Draco pressed a kiss to the side of Potter’s mouth before pulling away. Potter’s eyes were wide and Draco was frowning slightly. 

“They’ll be expecting us,” Draco said stiffly, turning away and walking along the corridor. He scowled, flicking his hair out of his eyes. 

The world had taken some strange turns in the last few months, Draco knew, between over-doses, boggarts and Potter related things in general. From what had happened within the last hour, Draco could only imagine how ultimately bizarre everything else was about to get.

\- - -

**To Be Continued…?**   
_A/N: I don’t know what the fuck to say. I’m seriously at a fucking loss right now. Actually, I have a poem-_  
There is one word I can say to thee,  
To convey my fangirl glee.  
The word, you’ll find, is squee. 

_This was it, my last chapter for Beyond Redemption: Part One. Since Part Two isn’t planned I’m totally lost right now. But fuck, I got my pairing. I got it. I actually did. I could sob, really._

_As my parting comments I’m saying- Thank you so fucking much every single person who has read and reviewed BR. Without you lot, who knows what could have happened. I love you lot and I know Caspe does too. And so Rora says goodbye until Chapter 2 of Part 2._  
Kisses,  
Rora. 

\- - -


	57. Chapter LVII

  
Author's notes: "You're beyond now- redemption, and no one's going to catch you when you fall." Harry’s back at Hogwarts. His allegiances are wavering. It’s only a matter of time…  
[Slash, self-harm, eating disorders, drug use… AU5]  


* * *

** Beyond Redemption **   
_By Sisters of Darkness_

\- - -

For this Chapter:

**Rating(s)** : R-Rated.  
 **Pairing(s)** : Mentions of Severus Snape/Harry Potter; Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter.  
 **Warning(s)** : Mention of Self-Harm.

\- - -

**Chapter LVII**   
_By CS WhiteWolf_

**H** arry awoke to find cool wintry sunlight streaming in through his bedroom curtains, a thin stream of garishly bright life filtering through to touch upon his face, wiping the last traces of sleep from him as he pushed himself upwards, a small smile touching at his lips a moment before he touched at them with his own fingers, grinning against the tips as his mind drifted back over the last week he’d spent in Grimmauld Place with Remus, and even at times Severus. 

He couldn’t seem to wipe the smile from his face as he swung his legs out of bed and made his way into towards the bathroom, shivering slightly as the cool air of the hall washed over him. He hadn’t felt this- this happy? This alive?- since, well since before Sirius really. 

Harry frowned lightly as he finished with his morning routines and made his way back to his room, shrugging into a black robe with red trimmings on the colour and cuffs. This mood of his had started sometime after returning from Malfoy Manor, after the disaster that was dinner- and it really was a disaster all things considered- Severus Snape had flooded them back to Grimmauld Place, his presence granting them safe passage through the wards. 

Upon arriving back though Harry had bourn witness to the possessiveness that only a werewolf could display as his Potions Professor was promptly shoved up against the still smouldering hearth and thoroughly snogged. Apparently it had something to do with Lucius’ scent being all over the dark-haired man. Harry found he didn’t care in the slightest, having watched with rapt attention as Remus pressed the length of his body against Severus’ own, devouring the other man’s mouth with a singular enthusiasm that had had him breathing hard at just the very sight, his mouth dry and his palms sweaty. 

Harry hadn’t even been able to pretend that he’d not been watching as the two men pulled apart, eyes smouldering only for each. He’d tried to inch backwards, out of the room, in order to leave them to it and would most probably have made it had not be bumped into and knocked over one of the wooden chairs sitting around the kitchen table. It fell to the floor with a loud clatter, catching the attention of both men. 

Harry winced at the sound, looking up sheepishly through his bangs as two pairs of eyes riveted onto him. The mood- unfortunately- broken, Remus had moved to pick up the chair and Severus flicked his wand at the kettle, setting it to boil. 

Two mugs of cinnamon-laced hot chocolate and a cup of tea later, saw the three of them sitting in the living room, the lights on the Christmas tree flickering magically and the fireplace roaring happily with the fresh kindling it had been fed. Snow had begun to fall and through the darkness of the window, Harry could just make out the large flakes falling softly and silently, blanketing all that it touched layer by layer. 

He was contented. Sitting between Remus and Severus, his legs curled up beneath him as he finished his drink, a feeling of utter contentment coming over him as he found himself leaning against the nearest body, an arm tentatively wrapping about his shoulders, the subtle scents of aniseed and sandalwood and a deep, earthy musk flooding his senses. 

It took a while for his mind to register the smells and relate them back to the person they belonged to, his body tensing a little as his mind finally comprehended the fact that he was lying against Severus Snape’s side, and that said man was holding him- rather willingly- against his body. 

Feeling suddenly rather wide awake, Harry pushed himself upright, flushing at the eagle-eyed look Snape gave him, ducking his head and mumbling an apology he wasn’t entirely sure why he giving. Remus leant over, wrapping his arms gently about his waist and pulling him backwards, allowing Harry to lean back against him as he allowed his hands to roam soothingly over Harry’s clothes chest, soothing strokes that nevertheless still had Harry’s cheeks heating as he dared look up at Severus, the man’s dark eyes were glittering as he watched him with a hunger that had him trembling. 

He slowly became aware of the soft platitudes Remus was whispering in his ear as his hands continued to stroke over his chest. Something about him telling them to stop if he was uncomfortable. Remus could have been reciting the recipe to a Polyjuice potion for all Harry cared at that particular moment in time. With Severus’ eyes watching him so closely and Remus touching him so casually but intimately, it was all Harry could do not to just give into the thrumming of blood running through his veins, pounding at his ears in time with his erratic heartbeat and the sudden shortness of his breathing. 

The Potions Master reached out to him, his fingers searing as they touched at his hand, drawing random patterns as he accustomed Harry to his touch, his fingers slipping up his sleeve a little to touch at his inner wrist, his gaze barely even flickering as he brushed against healing scabs of cuts. Harry found he couldn’t breath. 

And then Snape was leaning forwards, stopping inches before his face, giving him one last chance to pull away, but he was frozen, unable to move even as a hot mouth descended upon his own, lips moistened moving across his slightly chapped ones. His lips parted of their own accord, allowing for Snape to deepen the kiss only a little, the gentle lapping of another tongue slipping into his mouth before retreating as the older man pulled away. 

Harry licked his lips, biting at the bottom as he watched Severus mirror the first action, as if savouring the taste of him upon his mouth. Remus gently eased him upwards, keeping him cradled in his arms, caressing him quietly until- even with this strange new turmoil in his mind- he felt the waves of content tiredness wash over him. He vaguely recalled being scooped into strong arms and being carried upstairs and into his room, Remus tucking him in as Severus silently watched from the doorway, a strange half-smile on usually sneering lips the last sight he saw before sleep claimed him and his world descended into the darkness of dreams. 

That was then, now, six days later Harry still couldn’t get the memory from his mind. For though he had not kissed nor been kissed by Snape since that Christmas night, things between the two of them had subtly shifted. The dynamics of their relationship no longer one of enmity nor even of indifference, but one of an understanding Harry couldn’t find words to describe. And so, whenever he thought about it, the beginning of a smile would twist at his lips until eventually he gave in and allowed himself the novelty of smiling as if he were… happy. 

Harry stepped into the kitchen of Grimmauld Place, finding both Severus and Remus already seated at the table, cups of tea nursed between them as they sat in companionable silence. Remus’ greeting was a quick ‘good morning’ followed by a plate of hot toast and a pot of jam placed before him. Severus spared him a brief nod before standing and making his way towards the fireplace. 

“The wards will accept you, you should be able to floo straight through.” Remus nodded, holding out the jar of floo powder to the dark-haired Slytherin as he placed his outer cloak on. “And do try not to be late,” He directed this last comment to Harry who- unable to comment around the mouthful of dry toast- simply rolled his eyes. 

Severus gave a halfhearted sneer before stepping into the fireplace and disappearing amongst the flames towards Malfoy Manor. 

The hour and a half after Severus left was spent in a blur of making himself presentable and trying not to panic overly so at the prospect of meeting with the Dark Lord Voldemort once again. Though they seemed to have come to some sort of silent agreement, Harry knew that Voldemort was still the same snake-faced bastard he always was and no manner of pretty face would hide that fact. 

All too soon though, for Harry at least, found the hour of departure to Malfoy Manor approaching. He stood, silently before the fireplace, his Firebolt held lovingly in his arms as he took a moment to reflect, his eyes raking across his broomstick before flittering across the dimly lit kitchen, thoughts of Sirius once more filtering into his mind.

He found it disturbing to note that over the course of the Winter Holidays, which being cooped up in Sirius’ old house, that his pain over his godfather’s death did not affect him as completely as he had perhaps grown used to. He ran his hand over the polished handle of his Firebolt, a sad little smile upon his face as his heart chose to clench only a little. 

Is this what healing felt like? Was he to be forever reminded with little clenches of the heart of all that he had lost? Was the pain to slowly fade away to be nothing more than some sad and distant memory that he was no longer able to feel the reality of? The thought scared him. He didn’t want Sirius to become just another memory. Like that of his parents, with Lily’s scream and James’ shout, a flash of green light and nothing else. He missed his parents, but it was an empty loss, one he had always been aware of but never really known any other alternative. Though Molly Weasley had at one point shown him the love of a mother he had been neglected all those years at Privet Drive. 

“Ready?” Remus’ soft voice broke through his silent musings. Harry looked up smiling a little as he nodded his head. Remus returned the look, leaning in to squeeze his shoulder before leading him into the fireplace. 

\- - -

The arrival and consequent ‘tour’ of Malfoy Manor was spent in an awkward half-silence as Draco lead him towards the Quidditch pitch he conveniently had in his back garden. Not that Harry was complaining much, allowing the almost quiet between them to fester until they were out in the open air.

The feeling of wintry air washing over him did not fail to refresh him, his first real smile since waking up that very morning coming over him as he zoomed over to pitch, away from Malfoy and towards the near-distant lake. 

Cigarette in hand and the exultation of flying, Harry felt relaxed enough in Malfoy’s presence to share a slight bit of banter with him. The smoke filling his lungs appeased his fraying nerves a moment as every moment spent outside he expected to feel the telltale tingling of his scar in announcement of Voldemort’s arrival. Though he had stood up to the Dark Lord on Christmas Day, Harry was still more or less terrified of the serpentine man. His very presence reeked of power and darkness, with that hint of sadism flashing through those crimson eyes of his at whatever manner of sinister thoughts he was thinking. 

A screeching broke though his thoughts, causing Harry to look up from his reflection over the lake, finding an owl heading towards them. He watched as Malfoy untied and read the letter, his eyes meeting Harry’s own as he relayed the message in five simple words.

“The Dark Lord is here,” The blond boy said, frowning at him a little before speeding off towards the Manor once more. Harry forced himself to breathe deeply, a wave of sickly fear washing over him. Sure he’d known that Voldemort would be here today, but knowing it in advance allowed him to get himself worked over the meeting. Though at least this time it wouldn’t be a complete shock. 

Swallowing thickly, Harry sped after Malfoy, allowing the swiftness of speed to take his thoughts and fears away if only for the moment it took to reach the changing rooms. Dismounting upon shaky and chill-stiff legs, Harry all but stumbled into the heated room, allowing with barely suppressed resolve for the young Slytherin to take his broom and lock it away for him. He itched to snatch the key from Malfoy and take his Firebolt back into his hand. His gift from Sirius kept in Malfoy Manor seemed an insult somehow. 

He raised his eyes to Malfoy, intending to ask the other boy for his broom back. An eyeful of semi-naked flesh greeted him as he watched Malfoy changing robes. Curious, he allowed his eyes to flicker over the other boy’s chest and midriff, averting his eyes only when the blond Slytherin caught him staring. All thoughts of his Firebolt fleeing his mind as he pondered the eventuality of touching that quidditch toned flesh. Not that any thoughts of Malfoy particularly turned him on, but Harry considered the fact that the Slytherin was not particularly unattractive. And though he did not set his heart beating with anything other than anger and frustration on most days, Harry wondered how things between them would change should the dynamics of their relationship do so. 

He found himself rather content with the ‘almost-ness’ of friendship they had managed to formulate between themselves. It wasn’t easy. They seemed naturally inclined to hate and sabotage each other on the best of days, though things had dramatically improved between them, no doubt about it. 

Stepping hesitantly from the changing rooms, Harry prepared to blindly follow Draco around the maze of halls and corridors of his home, a faint tingling already beginning to affect his scar. He frowned; the link between Voldemort and himself seemed to be teasing him, as if sensing his hesitancy in meeting with the Dark Lord once more. Harry stared ahead, eyes wide and unblinking as he thought ephemerally about hijacking his broom back and flying the hell away from the Manor. 

Cool fingers hooked themselves beneath his chin, tilting his face upwards and into a brushing kiss. Harry froze, eyes widening further and focussing on Malfoy who pulled away slightly, pressing a small kiss to the side of his mouth before moving away entirely. 

“They’ll be expecting us,” Was all the blond said before turning and walking away as if hadn’t just kissed Harry. He what!? Harry gasped aloud, as the realisation actually hit him. Running to catch up with Malfoy who was already halfway down the hall, Harry wanted to grab at him arm, to ask him what the hell he’d just done. Instead he found himself following, walking side by side with an equally pensive Malfoy beside him. 

They stopped before a grand set of double doors, the ornate handles glinting with the wintry light streaming in through the windows of the corridor. Malfoy waved a hand at him, gesturing for Harry to enter the room, smirking slightly as he folded his arms in a lopsided manner. Harry wet his lips taking a step forward before pausing. 

“Why’d you do it?” He asked, turning back to the blond boy.

“Do what?” Malfoy replied offhandedly.

“Why’d you kiss me?” Harry watched as Malfoy’s smirk twisted into a scowl. 

“Don’t make such a big deal about it, Potter,” He snapped, “It was just a kiss.” With that said, Malfoy moved towards the doors, swinging them open and entering the room with a flounce in his step. Harry felt the first stirrings of faint amusement stirring within him, though it was quickly replaced with a feeling of cold dread as he stepped into the room. He quickly scanned over the occupants before moving to sit in the only remaining seat left- beside Malfoy. 

“So good of you to join us,” Voldemort was the first to speak, flicking his wrist offhandedly- the motion setting the double doors to close.

Harry’s scar prickled in an annoyingly persistent manner, though neither painful nor pleasurable, it was however extremely bothersome, a constant reminder from the Dark Lord as to the cursed link they shared. Harry tried to keep the scowl from his face as the Dark Lord began to speak; he found himself unable to concentrate on the conversations springing up from Voldemort’s comments, having to rub at his scar as it continued to itch for attention. Turning to face the Dark Lord, Harry found that Voldemort was staring at him, the look intense and unnerving and solely focussed on him. He stared back; suddenly unable to look away from the swirling red and green of his irises, until… until he felt the first brush against his mind. 

His eyes narrowing as he flung up his Occlumency shields, but they were feeble against the power of Voldemort’s Legilimency, Voldemort who swatted away his defences as if they were there not at all, taking his chance to pilfer through Harry’s memories, seeking… searching…

“No!” Harry’s hoarse cry called forth the attention of Remus who had been distracted by the heated debate taking place between the rest of the room’s occupants. He needed only the briefest of looks in Harry’s direction to figure out just what was happening. 

Launching to his feet, Remus released a growl of anger, making to stalk over to Harry and break the connection between them. Lucius Malfoy’s wand to his chest hand his pausing only briefly before swatting the stick of wood aside. Severus’ grip on his arm however gave him serious pause, turning to look at his lover with a fierce look of confusion, anger, and the beginnings of betrayal as Harry gave another cry- pain filled this time. 

“What the hell is going on here?” He demanded, yanking his arm from Severus’ grip, he turned to move over towards Harry once more, finding the boy on his knees, face reddened with the exertion of battling his mind against Voldemort’s. And then… something changed. Teeth clenched tightly together, Harry pushed himself to his feet, forcing the Dark Lord out of his mind and back into his own with a heave so powerful, Voldemort was forced back into the cushions. 

Though the Dark Lord’s mind was too well defended for Harry to even accidentally break into, it was enough to get the man out of his. 

“You bastard!” Harry spat, glaring at Voldemort, at the shock turning calculation flickering in red eyes. Remus shoved Lucius away from him, storming over towards Harry and gathering the boy into his arms, his amber glower daring anyone to hurt the boy he called his cub. 

“You know the prophecy.” Voldemort hissed, his words causing a ripple of shock to reverberate though those of the Inner Circle.

“Yes,” Harry breathed, clutching at Remus. “I do.”

“Tell me it! I demand you tell me it!” His eyes were glowing, his magic almost tangible as it gathered around him.

“You are not my master! Not yet. Your demands are nothing to me, not after what you’ve just done to me.” He swallowed heavily, his throat feeling raw despite it’s lack of use. “But I will tell you, Voldemort, because then you may see us as the equals we are.” 

Remus tightened his grip on his arm, warningly, but Harry shrugged him off. Ignoring the looks of anger and anticipation combined being thrown his way. 

“ _The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches, born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies, and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not, and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives._ ” 

Harry’s heart pounded in his chest as he finished the prophecy that had been his burden since Sirius’ death. 

“Now you know.” He said softly, shakily, “Now you decide. I come to join with you, Voldemort, as an ally, not an enemy. It’s time you treated me with the same respect.” 

His piece said, Harry stormed from the room, with no idea where he was going or even a particular destination in mind, all he knew was that he had to get away. Get away from the hungry look in Voldemort’s eyes, and from the dawning understanding and the anger from the Inner Circle.

\- - -

**The End**   
_…Of Part I at least!_  
Gods, can you guys believe it? Part I is finished! I am in shock. Really I am, it’s really rather inconceivable that we’ve managed to come this far, but let me take a moment to echo Aurora in that we honestly couldn’t have done it without all the support of you guys reading and reviewing!   
Aurora and I got together tonight (or is that last night now?) and got a huge chunk of Part II planned so really, don’t panic, there won’t be too long a wait between parts! And trust me when I say you want to stay tuned- it’ll be ever so exciting! Perhaps even more so that Part I was! :D  
If there is anyone out there reading BR who would like to be notified when we post part two, just leave a note saying so and your email address at the end of your review (and please, leave lots of these!) and Sister of Darkness will email ya’ll when we get Part II up!  
Thank you once again to everyone out there who has supported us through the ten months Beyond Redemption has taken to be completed! We’ve had our ups and downs we know, but we always pulled through in the end, and it couldn’t have been done without all you guys!   
I’m off to crawl into a corner now and mourn the ending of Part I! Hoping to see lots of pretty reviews by the time I return, and we promise to respond to them all as soon as we get a spare moment!  
Peace,  
Sister of Darkness,  
CS WhiteWolf  


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